Every Day
by Daughter of the Black
Summary: It had all started a year ago, and Phillip Kopus hadn't had a day of rest since. Every day he missed her, every day he dealt with the pain of separation. He knew it was wrong, but logic had never won out over instinct with Phillip. [Phillip Kopus x Kate Jensen] [Phate]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_. (Dialogue taken from 1x06)

* * *

The low rumble of a truck engine exhaled into the summer air, silencing the chirping crickets and the muffled noises from the houses along the street. As sudden as the quiet of the natural noises of the suburban streets settled it disappeared, the purr of the engine cutting. Metal creaked quietly as it cooled in the evening chill.

Dark eyes watched the street closely, flickering rapidly from house to house, noting the soft movements of trees and the waking of nocturnal creatures. A deep sigh filled the cab as the man shifted heavily, angling his body towards one particular house. The front yard was flooded with creamy yellow light, illuminating the neatly manicured beds of flowers and the empty driveway. Another heavy breath was expelled as the man searched the light filled frames, waiting for a silhouette to appear.

His body was tight, every muscle coiled tightly, ready to flee. He wasn't supposed to be on this street. His parole officer would probably have more than a few choice words to say to him, if the guy every bothered to check the tracking device.

_But_ Phillip Kopus wasn't a man driven by logic, he was a man driven by instinct and passion. That simple fact was probably what had landed him in so much trouble as well as how he had managed to escape so much of it. Phillip had spent more than his share of time locked up, thinking about the funny way the world seemed to turn. While he wasn't a particularly philosophical man, Phillip was starting to believe that there was something more to life than randomness. That was why he sat outside The Jensen house in his beat-up truck, watching for any flicker of life inside.

Long fingers clenched against the steering wheel, muscles corded sharply, rolling underneath taut, tan skin. Phillip was caught in a crisis of indecision. He knew he should turn the engine over and speed away, put as much space between himself and that damn house as he could, but he was frozen. Phillip had spent a year in prison, dwelling on lost time and lost chances.

It had all started a year ago.

It had all started in that house.

It had all started when Phillip Kopus had made up his mind to show Harold Jensen exactly who he had messed with. Phillip had wanted to frighten the man, demonstrate who the predator was and who the prey was in their little game. That wasn't how it ended.

Toes curled in scuffed boots as the bear of a man thought back to the sunny afternoon that changed the road he had been travelling down.

* * *

It hadn't been hard to find the hide-a-key, Phillip rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe _Harold_ had trumped him even a little. The guy was a damn cop and he had a hide-a-key rock sitting next to his front door. The man was a moron. He was practically inviting trouble into his home, trouble being a dark-haired, surly man named Phillip Kopus.

The door swung open easily and Phillip stepped into the hall, he paused as he closed the door, eyes scanning the street, ears pricked to catch any noise within the house. Everything was still. Flicking the latch, Kopus turned to survey the house. It was neat, clean, it looked too sterile. There was no clutter to warm the place, it felt staged. A façade of the perfect family. Phillip supposed that was apt, Harold and Jean had the perfect lives on the surface. They were happily married, owned a house in the suburbs, and had two kids. All that was missing was the damn dog and picket fence.

Reality wasn't so sweet a picture. Jean wasn't well, Harold was hardly the perfect father, cop, or husband, and Rachel wasn't exactly a girl of substance, unless you counted the substances in her blood. The house was cold.

On silent feet Phillip moved through the house, fingers dragging along the walls, lips curling upward in a little smirk as he took in the decorations. It was like a page from a magazine. He kept moving, careful not to disturb anything too much. He stepped into the kitchen, the cramped space making him feel bigger than he was.

Dark eyes skated across the space, this space was less sterile. It looked lived in, there were papers tacked to the fridge, a folder lay forgotten on the counter, and a pile of mail was scattered on the table. Scarred eyebrow flicking up in interest, Phillip glanced around before stepping towards the table. He scanned the mail, one finger extended to maneuver the envelopes and magazines around. Bills, bills, a useless coupon, and a letter from the town high school, nothing out of the ordinary. Turning to the fridge, Phillip frowned. Expired pizza coupons stacked under magnets for air-conditioning guys, grocery lists in a half-legible script, and, most interestingly, a pencil sketch of the mountain. It was nothing spectacular, but it didn't fit with the artificial feel of the house.

Leaning closer, Phillip squinted at the half sheet of paper. The strokes of the painting were soft, giving the scene a hazy, dream-like quality. There was little detail in the drawing, not from lack of talent Phillip decided. The drawing was unmistakably the mountain, every curve and angle accurate. The bottom corner of the page had a stark "K" as a signature. The lines weren't crisp, like the rest of the drawing it was hazy, multiple pencil strokes overlaying each other.

"K" had to be the other daughter. The one Phillip hadn't heard anything about. Straightening as he threaded his fingers through his hair, Phillip turned to the counter and slid the manila folder off the counter. Deft fingers flipped open the crisp, heavy paper. A stack of documents in various sizes, colors, and shapes threatened to spill onto the floor. Shifting his grip, Phillip braced the folder against his stomach as he thumbed through the documents.

_Kate_, the name popped off the page. Katherine Elizabeth Jensen, "K". Report cards, letters of recommendation, standardized test scores, ACT, SAT, and AP test information filled the folder. All of it painted a singular picture. Phillip knew with every centimeter of his flesh that these did not belong to the dumb, drunk, girl that Junior was in love with, and he didn't need a name to know it. These belonged to a girl who was smart and sweet. They belonged to a girl who saw beauty in the world.

Shaking himself from blindly reading the pages, Phillip set the file back down to finish surveying the room. He had something to accomplish, and Phillip had always been a very determined sort. If he set out to do something, he didn't let things get in his way.

Phillip Kopus had entered the Jensen house with a plan. He was going to send a message to Harold, so Phillip settled onto a dining room chair, fingertips pressed against the dark wooden table. With all the focus and patience of a hunter, Phillip waited, the long shadows of the afternoon cloaking him.

* * *

It had all started a year ago.

It had all started with a plan.

It had ended very differently.

That afternoon had been the start of the end, and the end of the start.

Phillip had spent an entire year letting the events crystallize in his memory. And in the end, it all came down to that afternoon. The afternoon he met Kate Jensen, the afternoon he goaded Harold into beating him half to hell, the afternoon the Albanians had caught him, the afternoon that Harold had, for an unknowable reason, saved him, and Phillip had returned the favor.

A year ago Phillip and Harold had sat slumped against the tuck, bloody and exhausted, and the world seemed to fade away. The euphoria of survival hadn't lasted long, and soon enough Phillip had found himself back in a prison cell with little else but his memories.

* * *

Long fingers tented against the overly-smooth wood table, Phillip's left hand clenched against his knee as a car door slammed. Exhaling slowly, Phillip gritted his teeth. It wasn't Harold. That left three options. It wasn't Jean. She would have opened the garage door just like Harold would have. That left the daughters.

Phillip's instincts warred. He had time to sneak out, it would be his best choice, but something kept him rooted in the chair long enough for the front lock to pop and the door to swing open. Steeling himself, Phillip forced his breathing to become shallow and his body to still all unnecessary movement.

The footsteps were light, even but gentle. As they moved closer, the hair on the back of Phillip's neck and on his arms rose slightly. Anticipation gnawing at him just as it did when he went hunting.

She swung into the kitchen in smooth movements, her backpack sliding down her arm as she lifted it to drop on the table. Her keys and jacket followed her backpack, the warm glow of afternoon sun lighting up her face.

Phillip's fingers flexed against the table as she turned, her curly red, sun-streaked hair drifting around her shoulders. She turned on her heal, body twisting easily, the curves and planes of her body shifting fluidly. She bounced down half of the steps into the den before freezing, her whole body seizing like a deer in the headlights. Phillip was similarly frozen, his lungs refusing to inhale properly.

She turned hesitantly, but didn't scream in fear as her eyes lit on him. A warm feeling swelled in his throat as she gave a gasping cry and backed down the stairs in shock. Pride, Phillip identified the feeling as she sat up in the chair, eyes locked on the Jensen he had yet to meet.

"It's okay," he forced his voice to be gentle and soft, not wanting to scare her anymore than he already had, "I'm a…I'm a friend of your Dad's."

Phillip watched as Kate angled her body slightly away from him, her hair hanging in her face, she was like a skittish animal, ready to bolt. A soft pink tongue darted out to whet full pink lips.

"My Dad doesn't have any friends," her voice was shaken, her breathing ragged.

Phillip watched Kate, absorbing every bit of information he could gather, eyes tracing every inch of her. He exhaled sharply through his nose, an ironic smile on his face, silent laughter flickering in his eyes. Pushing himself up from the chair, Phillip watched her as he stepped forward.

Kate stepped back, "He'll be home soon." It was a warning, empty, they both knew it.

"Oh good, wish he'd hurry up though," Phillip moved to stand in front of the fridge, taking his eyes from the young woman, hoping to calm her a little. "Got a busy day," Phillip tried to keep his voice conversational, tried to keep himself under control.

It was difficult for Phillip to ignore his instincts. Instincts that were roaring at him to keep his eyes on her, to watch Kate, to wrap his fingers in her hair and to figure out what she smelled like, what noises would issue from her throat if he brushed his lips against her pulse.

"Is he a nice dad," Phillip questioned, glancing at her as he tried to keep his body language as relaxed as possible. Desperate for something to keep his hands busy, Phillip opened the fridge glanced at the bare innards before closing it. His attention drawn again to the drawing pinned to the fridge. Sliding it off the fridge, Phillip forced himself to ignore the panicked breathing of the girl mere feet from him. He wanted to stroke her hair and tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn't, that would only scare her more.

"Did you draw this," he asked, voice heavy with suppressed emotion as he tipped the drawing so Kate could see. He watched her out of the corner of his vision. Kate nodded stiffly. Phillip held the drawing with both hands as he turned towards her, lifting his head as he walked closer. "He ever take you up there?"

Phillip didn't need a response to know that Harold would never take her into the mountains. Lip curled in an indistinguishable smirk, Phillip shook his head, "Keeps you all locked up here in this place, huh?"

Kate took a blind step back as the large man advanced. "You his favorite," his voice was a dark rumble, his eyes piercing into her, all of his attention on her as though she was the only thing in existence. "I bet he wishes he could keep you little forever."

The crisp sound of skin on paper filled the air, drawing Kate's attention to Phillip's large hands playing against her drawing.

The panic that had kept her frozen began to abate, "No." Her answer was still a little shaky, and a little quick, but it wasn't meek.

"Hm," it was a noise caught at the back of his throat as he walked down the stairs towards her, his heavy boots thunking loudly against the wood. He sighed heavily as he sank into a sitting position on the steps. A placid smile crept across his face, half sympathetic and half curious.

"You're the smart one, I can tell by looking at you," Phillip told her, watching as her breathing began to even, though her eyes were still wide and her lips remained parted. "Probably the only one who can see the forest for the trees."

The smile deepened, turning almost wry in nature as Phillip angled his head, looking up at her. He set his hands together, fingertips tenting before tipping to point passively at Kate. The warmth swelled again in his throat as Kate, still looking distinctly uncomfortable, met his eyes. Her hands were linked behind her back, pulling her shoulders back, her chest up, and forcing her to pick her head up a little, though a curtain of her hair still shielded her face from view.

Phillip clenched his jaw momentarily before relaxing, "Does he ever ask you what you think?"

"All the time," her voice even and mouth set firmly, Kate tipped her head to look at the intruder more directly.

Phillip swallowed at the answer. He could hear the lie in her words. The denial, the love, the blind love. His eyes shifted, catching the curve of Kate's hip beneath her shirt. "You keep taking shit, people are going to keep giving it to you," Phillip found her eyes again, "take it from me," he fell silent, watching her closely.

Kate kept her eyes on him, watching him just as he watched her. Phillip pulled away first, one hand delving into his pocket to retrieve his pocket watch, almost a quarter after three. Sliding the pocket watch home, Phillip returned his gaze to Kate. He rubbed his hands together in a show of nervous patience before folding them and settling them against this mouth. Eyes focused on her. Staring.

* * *

The haze in Phillip's eyes was replaced by pure focus in a snap as the subtle movement of a curtain drifting in the breeze caught in his peripheral vision. A lithe figure drifted in front of the window, shielded by the gauzy material. But Phillip _knew_ it was her, _Kate_.

Phillip knew his thoughts should not have been so captivated by her, but a year had done nothing to temper the strength of his feelings. Phillip had spent a year fighting his instincts, resorting to logic to put her from his thoughts. She was too young, she was the daughter of two people who had betrayed him and ruined his life. She was too good. Too gentle.

None of the reasons worked, Phillip couldn't deny the truth that had settled into his bones like marrow and given him strength and hope. He knew he shouldn't, and yet he did. Phillip was irrevocably, irreversibly in love with Kate Jensen.

* * *

A/N: The last episode of the first season was very striking, I think it illuminated a great deal of underlying character traits and issues. I re-watched the episode two or three times and couldn't get my curiosity about what else Phillip said to Kate out of my head. Her reaction to her father, and Phillip's goading later in the episode intimated that there was something else. After than I went back and re-watched every scene with Kate and began a little analysis of her character. In the end I was left with a paring with I have deemed Phate, and though I know it may weird some people out, my goal is to explore why they are matched quite well. Please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired) Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

Shifting in his boots, Phillip Kopus glanced around the gas station, one hand holding the pump-handle tightly. It was a sunny day, everyone in town seemed to be out and about, filling up their tanks for a weekend of off-roading or camping. Phillip was _not_ preparing for a weekend trip. In fact, Phillip shouldn't have even needed to fill up his tank. _But_, Phillip had done a little more driving than usual in the last several days.

Despite a firm mantra that he was _not_ obsessed with Kate Jensen, Phillip had driven past her home twice a day on average. Sometimes more if he could rationalize a reason why it would be faster to pass by the house. Even if he _knew_ Kate wouldn't be home, he still went past the house.

The pump clicked lowly as the tank finished filling. Brows drawn together in a concentrated effort to keep his behavior normal, Phillip lifted the nozzle from the tank, tapping it lightly to flick off the last drops of gasoline before he replaced the handle. The rest of the routine fading from conscious effort and into muscle memory as Phillip saw a flash of red hair across the lot.

It wasn't Kate, the voice was too loud, the red too artificial. It was one of the numerous tourists who flooded the town every year, who flooded the mountain. One upside to this years' influx, it would be the last. In a few days the Mountain would be closed permanently to anyone who wasn't Lenape, one benefit to the Federal Recognition the tribe had sought for decades finally being granted.

Sliding into the truck, letting his weight settle, Phillip jammed the key into the ignition, twisting it roughly. The engine grumbled to a start, even as the tall, dark, Indian man shoved it into gear and set his boot on the gas pedal. The sputtering sound of the engine filled the station for a brief moment before Phillip escaped onto the road, heading for the center of the town.

It was near to the end of the school day, and if the man timed it right, he might be able to catch a glimpse of her. Phillip reached forward and switched the radio on simply to fill the silence in the cab, and perhaps drown out the small voice in his head that kept telling him to go home. Thighs clenching as he inhaled and straightened the wheel, Phillip knew that he was a man possessed.

A dry snort drowned in the thunderous music, it wasn't new information of course. Phillip had realized his situation at, quite possibly, the most inopportune moment of his life. The moment where he could have easily let all of his problems solve themselves. But no, Phillip had swayed in his spot as he watched the Albanian advance on Harold, and Kate's face had flickered before his eyes. And, somehow, instead of watching Harold die and then taking down the last Albanian, Phillip had staggered across the pavement and snapped the man's neck, saving Harold's.

"Fuck," the low curse slammed against Phillip's teeth as he thought about Kate's vivid green eyes filling with tears. That was what had spurred him into action. It shouldn't have. But it had.

Steering the truck towards the semi-crowded street across from the high school, Phillip tried to blend in. A feat that was by no means easy, considering Phillip was well over six feet of muscle and didn't exactly fit the suburban big-brother or father role. Shoving himself backwards into his seat, Phillip twisted so he could see the school, but it wouldn't be apparent he was looking.

A very different sort of anticipation built in Phillip's gut, he was familiar with the slight burning and twisting sensation he associated with entering a potentially dangerous situation. The pressing, fluttering, almost hollow sensation was something very different. It left Phillip feeling shaky, like a starved man. When the bell rang, and the sluggish flow of teens exiting the building began, Phillip's eyes narrowed as he kept himself rigidly in place.

Despite the odds of spotting one girl in a population of hundreds, Phillip wasn't deterred. Phillip had been dealt poor odds his entire life, he had persevered through everything, why should this be any different.

Hazel eyes darkened infinitesimally, as a sharp, familiar laugh rang out. Junior's little girlfriend, and if Phillip had any shade of luck, Kate would be close by. Inhaling as he began to scan the teens more closely, the cool air only seemed to feed the empty feeling in his gut. Swallowing down the heavy fluttering, his pulse thrumming in his stomach angrily, Phillip squinted against the bright light. And then she was there.

She appeared like the sun through the drifting students, hair brilliant and free, face passive as she trailed behind Rachel and a group of students. Kate twisted to glance around, eyes skimming her surroundings but not stopping, as her eyes passed over him, the empty feeling erupted into a flash fire that left Phillip breathless. In a split-second she had disappeared into the SUV, leaving Phillip just feeling empty, alone.

* * *

Lying on the dingy mattress, staring up at the canopy of trees and sky that peeked through the hole in the roof, Phillip breathed deeply. The air was stale, but the run-down house was better than anywhere Phillip had stayed in years. He had his own space, even though it was filled with seriously creepy dolls that Phillip had quickly burned, despite a lovely visit from Harold. This time, Phillip had refrained from baiting the man. The year in prison had distilled Phillip's emotions so well, that letting any comment fall from his lips seemed sacrilegious in nature.

Flipping onto his side, Phillip let his left arm drop to the floor beside the lopsided bed. His hand delved into the black bag he had been given at his release which held his possessions. Tugging a cheesy cardboard box into his grasp, Phillip tightened his grip and lifted it up onto the bed. With a quick motion Phillip had tossed the lid off and let his fingers play through the sheaves of folded paper. There were dozens of stacks, all misshapen and ragged. Some were uniform and neat, a clear sign that Phillip had come into a bit of luck and managed to trade someone for a stack of paper.

They were letters, mostly, that were never sent. Some were vague musings, verbal sketches, dreams penned so they wouldn't be forgotten. But every single piece of paper, scrap or otherwise, had a single thing in common: Kate.

Picking up one of the bundles, Philip slid the cloth binding it free and turned the piece of paper upright.

_She smiled at me. And god if she isn't more beautiful than an angel. She had smudges of charcoal on her cheek, and when she touched me her hands were so tiny. So fragile against my chest. I woke up with gooseflesh where she touched me. It was a dream, she was a dream. 7/14_

Philip smiled faintly, remember the morning, one of them, he had woken up body simultaneously on fire and frozen at the thought of Kate's gentle fingertips playing along his skin. His body always seemed to have a visceral reaction to even the thought of Kate. The more time he spent ruminating on his attraction to the young woman, the less and less sense it made.

Phillip had at first assumed his attraction was rooted in his unfulfilled feelings for Jean, but the more he considered it the less he thought it possible. Kate was nothing like Jean. Kate was terribly bright, sweet, calm, and almost shy. Jean had always been average in school; she was nice enough to her friends, boisterous, and always the center of attention. Rachel was the daughter who took after Jean, the first time he met her it was like falling back in time.

With the most obvious cause of his attraction entirely rejected, the letters and notes became part of his curious introspection. Every word revealed a new aspect of his obsession. While he had always appreciated beautiful women with soft curves, Phillip found himself with bizarrely new kinks. He had become fixated on the vivid shades of Kate's hair, the shifting blue-green clearness of her eyes, her petite stature, the smattering of freckles, the bow of her lips, the paleness of her skin, the roundness of her hips.

Phillip had never really seen women so intricately. He had never had dreams about a woman merely tucked under his arm, her face tucked against his chest, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulder. He had tried to deflect the surging emotions; he had tried to imagine someone else, anyone else. But his mind and body always seemed to betray him, Kate always floated into his head.

Rolling onto his back, papers clutched against his chest, Phillip twisted as he tried to get comfortable. He had spent a year thinking about Kate Jensen, everyday without fail. There was no way in hell that Phillip was going to sit back now that he was out of prison and let her drift out of his grasp.

Gazing up at the night sky, Phillip chewed the inside of his cheek. He would have to go straight, or as straight as he could. Kate deserved better than having to look over her shoulder, she deserved the universe on a string. She didn't need an ex-con laying trouble at her feet. She deserved someone much better than Phillip, but he was a selfish man.

If he were a good man, Phillip would leave Walpole and Kate alone. That was certainly something Phillip hadn't been accused of being since he was a teenager, since before he had been run out of town by Jean Rogers and the whole damn town. Even though Phillip wasn't a good man, Kate made him _want_ to be a better man.

So Phillip was resolved to keep the job he had barely gotten with Bartow Paving, save enough money to actually get a place of his own, and generally prove everyone wrong about him. It was easy enough to promise, hell he had made a million promises before and broken nearly all of them.

Blinking tiredly, the large man winced at the slight twinge in his side, his stab-wound still infected. The irony of his situation wasn't lost Phillip. Phillip was determined to stay in Walpole and convince Kate, the daughter of the woman who had run him out of the same town, to love him back. That family had spelled nothing but trouble for Phillip, but Kate, Kate was something different.

Kate was everything Phillip had lost over the years. Kate was the one thing he hadn't destroyed. Kate with her silky waves of golden copper hair, slender limbs, and milky skin. Kate who made him toss and turn at night, sleepless. Kate who made him itch and writhe in his own skin.

Phillip wasn't quite sure how he was going to do it, but he was determined. Plans tended to go to shit for Phillip, but his instincts had a way of keeping him out of the deep-end of most trouble. One thing the dark skinned man knew for sure was that he wasn't going to rest until Kate was tucked against his side, his hand settled on the curve of her hip, and he could feel every beat of her heart against his skin as if they were his own.

Phillip Kopus was a man possessed by a single conversation, a few stolen glances, and a year's contemplation, and as he shifted on the bed, wavering in the limbo between the waking world and dreams, he smiled.

* * *

A/N: I am so pleased people seem to be open and enjoying this pairing. In the next chapter we should see Kate, possibly including some Kate &amp; Phillip interactions. I've got some cute ideas mulling on the backburner. Please leave a review, let me know what you enjoyed, what you would like to see more of, even just a brief comment means the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

Grumbling under his breath, Phillip loaded the bed of his truck with the lumber, shingles, boxes of nails, and a few heavy locks. Phillip had gotten an early morning wake-up call from his mother informing him that she had talked to Mac, and he could stay in the house if he fixed it up and paid a little rent. It was more than Phillip had ever anticipated from Mac, in fact all Phillip expected from Mac was a sneer.

Dropping the last stack of supplies into the back of the truck, Phillip's brows drew together slightly as the bright sunlight of early morning spring seemed to evaporate. Phillip tipped his dark head skyward, appraising the heavens as the sun was blocked from view by dark clouds. Shaking his head in annoyance, Phillip hurriedly covered the supplies with one of the myriad of tarps Marie had shoved into his arms this morning.

Phillip's mother was something else. She ran hot and cold faster than the weather changed in the mountains. After standing awkwardly in the door of the house that wasn't really his, and learning his mother had interceded on his behalf with Mac, Phillip had been practically ordered to put tarps up over the holes, because if he put it off he would regret it. Humoring his mother, Phillip had climbed onto the roof and hammered the blue tarps over the holes in the roof. Of course he hadn't done it with a smile. He had done it with a long suffering sigh that was aimed to needle Marie, irritating her like a good son should.

Supplies secured, Phillip slid inside the cab of the old truck and set off just as the first fat drops of rain fell on the windshield, warping Phillip's view of the world outside. It was a fairly quiet Saturday in Walpole, Phillip acknowledged. Most of the tourists already ensconced in the mountain, safe in their tents from the storm that was coming. The locals had never been terribly vigorous. Walpole was a slow sort of town, there wasn't much to do in the town, and most people spent the weekends at home with their families.

The utter stillness of the town is what made the subtle against one of the gas-station quick stops stand out to Phillip. The small figure standing under the tiny awning shifted, Phillip watched the rain-blurred figure. A jolt shot through his body as the water was swiped away by the wipers and the figure came into focus: a shock of coppery red hair and a very familiar frowning face.

Blindly, Phillip wrenched the steering wheel around, clipping a curb, and maneuvering the old vehicle into the gas station. Not bothering to turn the engine off, Phillip barely managed to shift the truck into park before he stepped out into the rising deluge of rain. Running on instinct, Phillip jogged around the truck and towards the figure stopping inches from her, only barely registering the astonishment that flashed behind blue-green eyes.

"Get in the truck," Phillip's voice came out as a dull roar, an order that the storm was quickly drowning out. The girl didn't move, rooted to the spot. Towering over her, body curved, Phillip was struck by how easy it would be to pull her into his arms.

"Get in the truck, Kate," Phillip repeated, settling a soaked arm around her shoulders and using a hand between her shoulders to urge Kate towards the truck.

Her stance gave under the weight of his gaze and hand, she sprinted forward, Phillip at her heels. In a flurry of oddly coordinated movements Phillip had managed to fling the passenger door open and half-lift Kate up onto the seat before slamming the door once she was safely inside. Panting, Phillip reached the other side of the car and slipped inside, jerking the door shut, the sharp thud silencing most of the deafening roar outside.

Safe from the downpour, Kate and Phillip's heavy breaths caused a fog to grow on the windows, further blocking out the world. Sliding the soaked hood from her head, Kate tugged at the sweatshirt she wore. It was sodden, making her shiver sharply. Kate nearly jumped as a large hand reached forward and began to fiddle with the dials, kicking the heater on. As the adrenaline began to bleed out of her system, Kate realized that she had effectively trapped herself in a situation that left her feeling entirely unbalanced.

If Kate had learned anything from the past year's events, it was that timidity with _this_ man was pointless. Bracing herself, Kate turned silently to look at the hulking man who was looking determinedly out the windshield, squinting as the storm pitched and screamed.

"Hi," her voice was soft, just above a whisper, but it was void of fear.

Hazel eyes whipped towards her, locking onto her, "Kate." The husky rumble of his voice made her name sound like a guttural plea.

"Hi," Kate repeated, feeling her cheeks warm sharply.

The laughter that bubbled up and out of Phillip was hysterical; it was low and shook his whole body. Running his hands through his long hair, Phillip shifted in his seat, unwittingly bringing himself closer to Kate. Her soft laughter joined his, the utter improbability of the situation making reality slip away momentarily.

Slowly the frenetic laughter faded, though an odd tinkle of laughter or chuckle permeated the warm cab for a few moments later.

"Ugh," Phillip groaned, head lolling back against the headrest, "Hi, Kate."

Kate curled her legs up and sat on them, attempting to keep the chill at bay. Her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she considered what she wanted to say to him. At last, Kate sighed, "I heard you were back."

To Kate it sounded stupid, it was a stupid comment. What did he care what she had heard. _But_ Kate had needed to say something. To have the upper-hand in this conversation. Phillip had dominated the last conversation they shared, the only conversation they had shared. Phillip had walked into her life, and spoken to her like...she didn't even know. But he had looked at her, really looked at her, instead of through her like most people did. Everything had changed after that. Everyday life wasn't the same.

"Yer, dad," Phillip questioned softly, tilting his head to watch Kate.

Her head shook slightly as his voice drew her from her thoughts, "No. He hasn't talked about you at all." In truth, the bond Kate and Harold Jensen once shared hadn't been the same since Phillip had walked into her life. One hand tugged at water-logged red-brown hair, "The guys at the station were talking about it."

His head rose, eyes darkening, "What were you doing at the station?" Phillip's body thrummed with anxiety, he had no love for the cops of Walpole, they weren't the smartest, kindest, or most honest of men, and he certainly didn't trust them.

"Sometimes my dad forgets his lunch, I drop it off for him," Kate answered, voice hesitant.

Lifting one arm, Phillip ghosted his index finger along the curve of Kate's jaw. Her skin was silky and slick under his skin. Throat tightening, Phillip watched Kate carefully, waiting for her to flinch away or shudder in disgust. A brief shot of euphoria flooded Phillip's brain Kate did nothing, ignoring him. Feeling brave, boosted by his small victory, Phillip laid his hand against Kate's neck, large hand almost cupping her cheek. This was sin. She fit against him snugly, her pulse tripping against his fingers. Phillip couldn't help but groan at how tiny she was, how small Kate looked huddled in wet clothes and curled in a ball. Kate's eyes fluttered closed as Phillip's strong thumb stroked along her cheekbone.

"Sweet Girl," Phillip mumbled as his hands brushed against the clammy skin. He drew back, the moment of suspended reality shattered, "You're frozen. Take your sweatshirt off."

Kate's eyes opened wide at the order even as his hand fell away. She hesitated but began to shrug out of the garment. It was common sense, being in wet clothes wouldn't do her any good. Focused on her task, Kate never noticed how dark Phillip's eyes grew. The gnawing emptiness filled his gut as he watched her drag the heavy fabric up and keep her camisole down. His tongue flickered out to swipe at his dry lips, fingers twitching as he forced himself to remain still.

Phillip wanted nothing more than to reach across the chasm between them and skim his fingers up her sides, helping her pull the material up. Possibly grazing soft, warm skin as he helped. Phillip gritted his teeth against the images, the phantom sensations. Instinct demanded that Phillip breach the twelve-inch distance and fill his hands with her, taste her, breathe her. Phillip defied his instinct, ignoring his trembling hands and tightening muscles. He refused to cross the invisible line he had already toed so well.

When the sweatshirt had been dropped to the floorboards, Kate bit her lip and peered out the window. It was still pouring, the wind bending the trees sharply.

"We should go," Kate turned back to face Phillip.

It was obvious to Phillip what she meant. It would be pretty bad if anyone to find them sitting alone in his truck. Harold would blow a gasket and then kill him. Phillip didn't question Kate's easy presence as he slid the truck into gear and gave it a little gas. He had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and even if Phillip was curious about how at ease Kate was, he wouldn't verbalize it. Phillip was terrified that he would break whatever tenuous peace was stretched between him and Kate. Pulling out of the gas-station, Phillip set his mind to strengthening that bond.

* * *

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, she sat comfortably, face relaxed as he drove. Phillip was crowing on the inside, his body warming with pleasure and pride. There were no logical reasons for Kate to be sitting beside him as if it was normal. If he had been thinking clearly as he ushered her into his truck, Phillip would have expected her to lash out at him, run away from him instead of obey him. The cab was quiet except for the tinny sound of rain on the roof as they drove. Kate's soft honey scent infused the air, drawing Phillip back to the first time he had been caught by her sweetness.

* * *

_Phillip groaned and scrubbed his palms over his face before looking up at the girl. "It's okay," he told her again, "I'm not going to hurt you."_

_ The slender redhead nodded slightly, body still rigid._

_ "Please," Phillip breathed out, "sit, I promise I won't hurt you."_

_ He watched her, every twitch of every muscle, every twist, and every inch of skin slipping and sliding beneath fabric. Slowly Kate Jensen felt her way to a footstool, settling stiffly onto it. _

_ "I'm Phillip," he told her, peering at her from beneath hooded eyes._

_ "Kate," she mumbled keeping his gaze._

_ His lips twitched upward, smiling, "I know." Kate didn't speak, waiting like a rabbit ready to bolt at any sudden movement. Phillip's smile faded into a frown, "Do you know why I'm here?"_

_ A shake of her head had her curls bouncing softly, drawing Phillip's eyes to the gentle curve of her neck, graceful in every way. _

_ "Your father did a very stupid thing," Phillip told her slowly, "he betrayed my trust, even when I was trying to help him."_

_ "With what," the quiet question had Phillip biting his lip in excitement._

_ As he leaned back, Phillip toyed with the drawing again, "I'm a bad man, Kate. Does that scare you?" Phillip didn't give her a chance to respond, powering on, "'course your folks aren't much better now. Did you know they blamed me for Brian's death, drove me out of town? Even though I was innocent? Everything I could have been…they _took_ from me." _

_ Phillip rocketed to his feet, taking one great step forward so he stood before Kate. Raking his hands through his hair, Phillip sank into a squat before the young woman, gazing into her light eyes. He gave a half-smile as he inhaled, Phillip's cheek ticked upwards as a soft sweetness filled his lungs. Honey, fresh honey. Sweet and soft, and slightly flowery. _

_ "Kate," her name was a breath that fanned over her face, warm and spicy, "Oh, Katie."_

_ The girl in question shied away from his gaze, tucking her chin into her chest._

_ A strong hand slipped beneath her chin, softly lifting her face towards his. He sank to his knees; absently Phillip noted he had never been brought to his knees by a mere look from a woman. But in that moment, Phillip found himself kneeling before Kate Jensen as though it was the most natural thing in the world. And at her feet, holding her gaze, Phillip let his sins spill from his lips, telling her the brutal truths of his life. _

_ With every word, every sin he whispered, Phillip watched Kate's wide eyes, the slight quiver of her soft pink lower lip. She never ripped her chin from his grip, never cursed him to hell, never kicked out at him. He could feel the slight tremors that rocked her body, and he wanted to stop, wanted to spare her the knowledge of all he had done, but Phillip couldn't seem to stem the flow of rough, half-hoarse words._

_ When the whole sordid tale of the last weeks had been spilled into the air, Phillip waited. Her soft voice broke his laconic state, "I'm sorry."_

* * *

Pulling onto the back roads, Phillip moved further into Lenape territory, away from the safety of the suburbs. He kept one eye on Kate, waiting for any argument she might give. None came, and after a distance, Phillip pulled over under a copse of sturdy trees that had seen generations come and go. The canopy of thick branches and leaves shrouded them from the storm, the rain and wind dying down and leaving Kate and Phillip alone.

Killing the engine the Lenape man twisted to face his obsession. "Why," he paused, unsure of how to continue, "Why did you get in the truck?"

Eyes that were more green than blue in that moment swept across his face before Kate's soft voice answered him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you asked."

A snort of sardonic laughter tore from Phillip. "I didn't ask you," his head shook in disbelief, droplets of water flying from the long strands of his hair, "I told you to."

Kate's mouth dropped open to answer but she paused, tongue sliding along perfectly pink lips. "Would you have made me?"

"Maybe," came the gruff answer.

Lips curled upward, Kate shook her head, as she stared up at him, "You wouldn't have hurt me."

"I could."

"You haven't," Kate told him firmly as she reached one hand over to cover his hand as it lay against his leg.

"With everything you know," Phillip set his jaw, "you should know better than to trust me."

The tension snapped as Kate shrugged, a broad smile pulling at her face, "Maybe I can see the forest for the trees."

It was an offhand comment, jokingly tossed out to lighten the mood. There was, however, something distinctly uncomfortable about Kate's words.

Hand drawing back, Kate stretched as the heat of the trunk began to warm her, drying her skin. As Kate shifted, Phillip let himself relax.

"It wasn't supposed to rain," Kate frowned as she craned her neck so she could look up at the sky outside. "I checked the weather report."

"Mother Nature doesn't like to be predictable," Phillip told her. "At least that's what my mom says."

A smile crept along Kate's pink lips, "Sounds like a smart woman."

"You'd like her," was the short reply. Another thought got stuck in Phillip's throat. He felt like he was balancing on the head of a needle. Phillip had never been one to watch his mouth, but now he was scared shitless of what might come out if he wasn't careful. Hell, he had already crossed too many lines, let too much slip.

Kate shifted, bending forward, fingers tugging at the laces of a pair of hiking boots. With a soft sigh, Kate toed her shoes off. Phillip's scarred brow lifted in interest. Kate wasn't a hiker. He had gathered that from their last meeting. A fleeting panic raced through Phillip's mind. It had been a year. The last time he had seen Kate was a year before. How much had changed, was she still the same sweet girl that had met his gaze and been stubborn enough not to scream or run.

* * *

They sat in near silence as the rain lessened, a few short, trivial exchanges passed between them. They never strayed from polite conversation, grocery store small talk that meant too little to care. But they both cared.

When the rain became a drizzle, Phillip backed the truck back onto the path and headed towards the Jensen house. They both acted as though it was natural for him to be driving Kate home.

When the silence became too much and the distance to their parting grew too short, Phillip guided the truck to the side of the road. The Jensen house only a block away.

Before Kate could open the door Phillip spoke, his voice unguarded, soft, "What were you doing out so early on a Saturday?"

Popping the door open Kate slipped out of the truck and turned to face the man who had been staring at her for most of the morning. "I wanted to see the mountain up close before I couldn't anymore."

The answer was so simple and sweet that Phillip couldn't help but smile, teeth glinting against tanned skin and raven hair. "Kate," he leaned across the cab toward her, "any day you want, I'll take you up there."

She doesn't speak. She smiles instead. A smile that lit up her whole face, transforming her from pretty to stunning. Eyes crinkled in glee, Kate bit her lip to hide her smile as she closed the door and dodged across the road, never looking back.

* * *

It wasn't until Phillip had pulled into "his" driveway that he noticed the abandoned sweatshirt on the floor of his truck. _Kate's._ He scooped it up, and though the fabric was still damp the smell of honey caught Phillip's attention a faint smile crossing his face.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to those who took the time to review this. I spent a few days away from this chapter and had to come back because in my first draft things escalated a little too quickly. I'm pretty happy with this progression. Let me know what you think! Ta.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

When Kate stepped out of the rain and into the warmth of the house, she could just hear the furious whispers that more often than not signaled that Rachel had gotten up to something. Kicking off her shoes Kate placed them side by side on the mud tray. Glancing back out the door, Kate couldn't help the soft smile that inched across her face as she watched a dark truck started off down the road.

"Kate," Jean's voice called, "is that you?"

Kate's hands flew into her hair, swiping and smoothing her hair into a tight bun, an attempt to conceal its dampness. Hands smoothed down her camisole, fixing it down where it had ridden up exposing the creamy skin of her hips.

Padding down the hall, Kate took several calming breaths before speaking, "Yeah."

Stepping into the kitchen Kate was faced with both parents sitting at the table, coffee cups and phones scattered across the scarred wood. Their faces were tight, muscles pulling stiffly around the jaw. Kate waited, frozen in the doorway.

"Where have you been," her mother's voice was thin, reminiscent of days and nights where Jean had been strung-out and pissed-off at Rachel. "I woke up and you weren't here."

Harold reached across the table and settled a hand on his wife's, a clear effort in restraining her. Jean jerked away from the touch, "No, you don't understand, she doesn't understand what it's like to check on your daughters and find one of them missing! I've already done this with Rachel. I am _not_ doing this again!"

"Okay," Harold spoke softly, as though to a child, "Yelling isn't going to solve anything. We need to listen to Kate."

"Okay," Jean inhaled, voice sharper than natural, "I'm listening."

Kate didn't miss the forced patience, the deliberate pronoun change. Blinking slowly, eyes wide, the petite girl parted her mouth and spoke in her ever-small voice, "I'm sorry, I got up early to go to the library, I forgot to leave a note."

Harold let out a deep sigh, "See, she's fine."

"It's not fine," Jean's hands curled into tight fists before relaxing, "I called your phone, repeatedly."

"The stacks in the basement don't have very good cell service, I'm sorry," dropping her eyes to the ground, Kate shifted uncomfortably.

Harold pushed back from the table and flashed Kate a smile as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her firmly against his chest, face buried in her hair. "it's okay sweetie, we were just worried."

Kate didn't wrap her arms around her father. The embrace didn't feel like it used to. Kate had always been a daddy's girl. Where Rachel had taken after her mother, latching onto her like a duck, Kate had sought attention from her father. It had likely started a few years after Kate was born. Jean had fallen headfirst into the bottle. And in denial, Harold had clung to his perfect baby-girl.

As the years went on and Jean got worse and Kate grew up, things changed. Their relationship had changed; Kate had stepped into Jean's shoes. She had started to pick up the slack, cooking, cleaning, and generally making sure everything was okay. It was always about making sure that the pretense of a normal family never shattered, that Harold saw Kate, loved her like Jean had never made the effort to.

The events of the year before had taken the rose colored glasses from her eyes, Phillip had made everything clear. Kate had begun to realize, with each passing day after the incident, that her parents barely noticed she existed. Kate was certain that at times they honestly forgot she existed, sometimes she would come home from tutoring and they would be gone, at dinner or the movies, family night.

Meeting Phillip had opened Kate's eyes. His questions had touched on dark thoughts that Kate had always pushed down. Kate was the forgotten child. So long as she was the perfect child, Harold and Jean Jensen, at times, forgot they had a second child. Kate had actually relished the attention her father had given her when Jean had hit the bottom. When Jean pushed Harold away, Kate had been there. She had been the focus of her father's attention, often cuddling up with him and watching TV or talking about the day. Giving to her what Jean rejected.

The heavy breath against her neck, the clawing fingers in her hair, Kate had savored the closeness, the drowning affection. _But_ that was before Phillip. Phillip had been right. Kate had never been up the mountain. She had rarely gone anywhere or done anything without someone holding her hand. Kate had always walked within the lines, she had been the good daughter, she had never asked why, she had just done. The heavy warmth of affection which had once been welcome had become tainted. It had become cloying, sickly sweet, restrictive.

The pedestal Kate had put her father on had been thoroughly smashed by Phillip. When Harold had come home that afternoon and looked at her like she was his sanity, Kate knew he didn't want to hear what she thought. He wanted a doting daughter who would tell him he was loved, that he was right, that he was strong.

In the year since the whole affair, Kate had fallen back into obscurity. All of Harold and Jean's focus had gone into Rachel. Kate knew her parents loved her, knew that they weren't simply ignoring her. Harold and Jean had focused on fixing Rachel so they wouldn't have to focus on their own relationship. It had worked. Rachel had actually managed to focus enough to start applying for colleges.

Gritting her teeth, Kate pulled away slightly, attempting to escape the arms curled around her, choking her. When Harold finally pulled away he held Kate's face, stroking her cheeks fondly. Kate was immediately reminded of how tender and delicate Phillip's hand had felt against her skin. Harold's lips against her forehead were rough and pressing. Swallowing, Kate stepped back as Jean stood up, chair scraping against the floor.

"It is _not_ okay," Jean exhaled sharply. "Kate, you're grounded."

Harold turned to his wife, frowning, "No, Jean, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," Jean's eyes rolled back in exasperation as her arms lifted in irritation. She was done being told to _calm_ down.

Tongue tracing over his teeth, Harold sighed, hands landing on his hips, a reflex of being a cop. "Hey, Kate is a good girl. I was worried too, worried sick, but Kate is fine. She made a mistake and she's sorry, next time she can wake me up and I'll drive her."

Jean shook her head slightly, turned and stormed out of the room, tossing both Harold and Kate a dirty look as she went.

"Hey, Katie," Harold turned back to her, looking at how delicate she seemed curled in on herself. He stepped in to her, "Hey, sweetheart, ignore your mom, she was just worried. I was too, Kate, it's not safe out there." His arms curled around her again, squeezing tightly as he sighed.

"I'm fine."

"I know," Harold sighed, one hand teasing the nape of Kate's neck, "But it isn't safe, I was so worried, Kate."

Inhaling, Kate's teeth settled around a piece of her cheek, biting down to keep her body still. "I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment, "I just wanted to return my books. I got distracted, and the storm was so bad I couldn't leave."

Eyes closed in relief, Harold held his baby-girl, "I know, baby. I would have driven you. Next time, anytime, you can wake me up and I'll take you wherever you need to go. Anytime."

Keeping her shoulders relaxed, Kate nodded, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Harold breathed against Kate's hair, "You're okay." After a moment the cop released Kate hands rubbing up and down her bare arms, "Don't worry about your mom. Go dry off. I don't want you getting sick."

* * *

When Kate slipped upstairs and into the bedroom she shared with Rachel, she was confronted with a sly smirk and a giggle.

"What have you been up to," the salacious curl of Rachel's words had Kate on guard.

Turning to her closet Kate picked up her robe and some clean clothes, "Nothing."

"Yeah, right" the older girl snorted in disbelief as she sat amongst her schoolwork on her bed. "So, who is he?"

"No one," a pink tinge seeped through Kate's cheeks, "I was at the library."

"Mhm," the taller girl hummed, "On a Saturday morning? I know you are a smarty-pants, but even you don't spend Saturday mornings at the library. Just because mom and dad are too wrapped up in their own problems and me to see it, I'm not." Closing her textbook, Rachel bounced off her bed, "So, is he cute?"

Kate ignored her sister's questions, not willing to let her tongue betray her thoughts.

* * *

The water scalded, pouring down in sheets that warmed her to the bone unlike the icy rain. Despite the heat and steam, gooseflesh rippled across Kate's body. As her hands drifted across her curves, fingers sliding along taut, soft, flesh Kate couldn't help but think about how Phillip had watched her. The almost bashful way he peered at her indirectly, refusing to stare until she drew his attention directly.

Eyes drifting closed as she turned her face into the water, Kate saw his eyes. Hazel with flecks of gold, eyelashes slightly clumped from the rain. He had looked so different from the last time they had met. Not physically, but something about his nature had been different. Physically he was much the same. He crowded Kate, dwarfing her in every way. The only thing that was different was his hair. It was with some amusement that Kate wondered what his longer hair would feel like as it slipped through her fingers. Even in the rain it looked soft, silken.

Inhaling deeply, Kate was back in the truck, and instead of the soft flowery smell of soap she smelled the intense musk and woodsy smell that was pure Phillip. He smelled like heat, and it made Kate's body ache with hunger, she wanted to breathe him in, bury her nose against his neck, in his hair and feed on his scent.

* * *

Kate laid in bed that night one hand against her heart and the other against her neck where Phillip's hand had lain. It had been a strange day. Even though Kate knew Phillip was back in town, she hadn't expected to see him again. The very last thing she had expected was for him to come running up to her in the pouring rain and settle his hand on her back protectively.

Phillip had confessed things to her that they both knew could put him in prison, possibly for life. For weeks and months after he had crouched in front of her and spilled everything, Kate had been terrified that someone would come after her, him, the Albanians, anyone. She hadn't admitted to anyone what happened. As far as Harold was concerned, Phillip had just broken, scared her and taken a drawing. Everything else was a secret. Kate was certain Phillip hadn't said anything; he wouldn't be walking around if he had.

The more Kate thought about that afternoon, the more she knew…the more she trusted that Phillip would never have hurt her. The moment his hand had settled on her back in the rain Kate had felt warmth flood her body. Just thinking about the morning had Kate's heart racing. It shouldn't have. Kate knew that. But it did. Kate should have gone running the moment he looked at her. She should have jerked away from his touch.

Everything had changed.

* * *

Sitting against the wall, Phillip stared at the tarp covered ceiling. It was drizzling again, the sky clearly not through with its upheaval. Phillip didn't mind, he had never minded the rain. It washed everything away. It drowned out the fighting and the whispers. Eyes closing, Phillip curled his arms into his chest, bringing the crumpled sweatshirt to his face.

No, Phillip considered, he was begging to come around to rain. The rain had brought him Kate. It had given Phillip a chance to see her again, without subterfuge or lies. Smiling into the sweatshirt, Phillip breathed deeply, dragging the soft smell of honey into his lungs. Breath after breath had Phillip fading off to sleep, the sound of Kate's soft words in his ears and the bright flash of her smile drifting behind his eyes.

Even after a year nothing had changed, she was still Kate.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, glad you like this so far! I wrote my first draft of this chapter last Thursday (before I saw the episode), then I spent tonight revising because I had spent the weekend feeling unsettled about how Harold, Jean, and Rachel came off. Suffice to say I am a lot happier with this draft, and included a few hints to help illuminate Kate's absence thus far in the new season. Well, hope you enjoyed and drop me a line, Ta!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

"No," Phillip grunted, "it's not happening."

The soft tinkle of metal against metal rang out as Marie settled her hands on her hips, ever the mother. "Did I ask?"

Fingers curled sharply against the doorjamb, "No."

Marie's brow lifted at the almost subservient answer. Phillip had never been a soft child. That wasn't to say there hadn't been times when he had been sweet and warm, but those days had long since passed. Recent years had seen Phillip develop into a mountain; he was always immovable, passive in an ominous way. Marie knew that the times he did as she asked it wasn't because he was obeying her, it was because he would come to do as she asked of his own volition given time.

"So you'll come," Marie confirmed.

Muscle rippled beneath firm, tan skin as Phillip dropped his head, rolling it to the side in fond exasperation, "Do I have to?"

Holding back the moan of annoyance, Marie nodded once, concise movement in both time and space. "It is a _family_ dinner," the older woman intoned, eyeing him sharply.

"Yeah," Phillip shook his head, "I thought I wasn't family."

"You're my son," the assertion was met with a patented snort of disbelief.

Chin lifting, Phillip caught Marie's eyes, "Really, sometimes it gets difficult to figure out which days you are denying it."

"I want you there," Marie entreated, "I want all my boys there, Mac, Junior, _and_ you."

The tall man was silent, face blank. "I'll see you at half past six, and you're bringing dessert," Marie told him matter-of-factly as she spun on her heel and started off towards home.

"Yes, Mom," Phillip called after her, voice heavy and saccharinely sweet.

A hand raised in the air, wrist twisting sharply in a dismissal of him and his tone. Taking a deep breath Phillip couldn't help the wince that wracked his torso and made his breath a sharp hiss. Hand dropping from the doorjamb, Phillip cupped it warily against the wound in his side, the fabric of his t-shirt already beginning to soak with blood.

"Great," the man grumbled, face darkening.

* * *

Kate had managed to avoid being grounded by playing innocent. Her father had eaten it up, rushing to the rescue. So instead of being forced to stay home, Friday afternoon found Kate volunteering at the local senior center. Kate was tasked with helping Jason, one of the older volunteers, take a small group shopping. Mostly Kate and Jason were just there to make sure everything went smoothly, which it always did. That, Kate supposed, was one of the benefits and disadvantages of living in a small town.

It was as Kate was smiling softly and nodding along to an elderly man as she helped him fill his cart that she saw him. Kate froze, blinking blankly, shocked to see Phillip Kopus in such a mundane place. Of course Kate knew he must have gone grocery shopping before, he had to have, but it was the difference between knowing and seeing. Nodding mutely to her charge, Kate kept one eye on the man who walked purposefully through the nearly empty market.

While Kate expected Phillip to be like most of the men in her experience and just grab whatever and go, Phillip defied those expectations. He stopped in front of the bakery case, his back to Kate. His hands were tucked in his pockets and his back was rigid, a clear sign of discomfort.

With a little cleverness on her part, Kate had maneuvered her charge towards the taciturn man contemplating desserts. Sidling up beside him, Kate bit her lip to hide her smile.

"You know I'm a fan of the apple pie," Kate suggested as she leaned closer to Phillip, barely grazing his arm with hers.

Phillip's head snapped towards her, dark frown melting away, "Apple?"

She nodded, hair shifting over her shoulder and falling in her eyes, "Yeah, with a little cinnamon whipped cream on top."

Turning to face Kate, Phillip lifted one hand to brush the hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, "That does sound good."

"It is," Kate reiterated, color rising in her cheeks as Phillip's fingertips traced the shell of her ear. "So, craving something sweet?"

"Mm," the tall man hummed, "more and more. What are you doing here?"

"I volunteer at the senior center, it's grocery day," Kate smiled and glanced over her shoulder, checking on the man she was escorting.

Phillip smiled broadly at the young woman in front of him. "You're friend there is giving me a dirty look," Phillip inclined his head slightly beyond Kate.

Following his gaze Kate found Phillip was right. Mr. Jessup was indeed staring at the duo, glaring really, under the guise of checking the selection of fresh bread. Phillip couldn't help the smirk that played along his mouth as he raised a hand and gave a little finger wave to the old man. Kate gasped as she caught him and grabbed his hand, pulling it down.

"Oh god," the blush was swelling to a peak. "Don't do that!"

Phillip chuckled lowly, and curled his fingers around Kate's hand, squeezing before he let her hand drop from his grasp, "I think he may be jealous."

"Ugh," Kate groaned, "he's a nice old man."

"Yeah, a nice old man who keeps staring at you backside," Phillip's smirk deepened, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement.

A shudder ran through Kate's body, eyes squeezing closed, "Ew, why would you say that."

Leaning down, Phillip whispered in her ear, "Because it's true."

Kate rolled her eyes, a smile stretching across her face. Phillip had a very odd influence on her. She didn't say anything.

Phillip licked his lips as an awkward silence began to build between them, "I'm sorry. I mean, I don't think I ever said sorry, for scaring you that day."

Eyes softening, and body almost curled in Phillip looked vulnerable. Kate felt oddly powerful in that moment. A fleeting memory rushed past her eyes, of Phillip crouching before her, baring his soul. In that moment Kate was decided, "You didn't."

"You're sweet," Phillip shook his head, eyes shifting away, "But I did, and I'm sorry…and before you say anything, just know that I don't apologize. Ever."

Kate bit her lip again, tugging at the fullness, "It's okay."

"It's not," Phillip grumbled, "You didn't deserve that Kate, you don't. I should never have told you what I did."

His low voice made Kate pause, there was no easy answer. "Look, Phillip," Kate let her hand fall against his tattooed arm, pretense falling to the wayside, "You're right, you did scare me, but you don't anymore, and I'm not mad." The tension drained from his body, Kate could feel his muscles relaxing beneath her hand, "If I was, I probably wouldn't be over here talking to you."

The smile returned, teeth flashing and eyes sparking. As Phillip straightened he jolted, his face tightening in sudden pain.

"Are you okay," she asked worriedly, eyes roving Phillip's body for some hint.

Kate's search found nothing, but Phillip's posture betrayed him. He was favoring his right side, his arm positioned protectively. Phillip's grunted assurance of being okay went unheard as Kate stepped closer to him. She wormed her way under his guard and gently lifted the dark wife-beater up.

The fabric was wet to the touch, damp and sticky, a lump formed in Kate's throat, her teeth worrying her lip. She gasped, mouth falling open in silent horror as she revealed the angry red wound.

A hand covered hers, pulling his shirt back into place. "I'm fine," Phillip told her, his voice a low whisper, eyes scanning their surroundings.

"No," Kate's voice matched his, "you're not. That is infected! You need to take care of yourself."

"It's fine," Phillip repeated, "Don't worry about me."

Shaking her head sharply Kate let out a heavy breath, "Not really a choice. I'm going to get some gauze and stuff, meet by flowers in ten."

For the second time in Phillip's experience, Kate walked away from him in a flurry of red hair and quick steps.

* * *

After begging off the rest of the day to Jason, Kate had bought a whole mess of supplies and walked furiously towards the man who was half-heartedly looking at flowers. When Kate was close enough, she reached over to Phillip, grabbed his hand and tugged him with her as she started off again. With a surreptitious glance, Kate dragged the older and larger man with her into the bathroom.

The look on Phillip's face oscillated between stunned and impressed. Quicker than Phillip believed possible, Kate had turned toward him and reached passed him to flip the lock.

"Shirt off," Kate demanded, not giving Phillip a chance to speak.

To most Kate came off as timid, and she was to a point, but when Kate had her heart set on something no one could stop her. Phillip watched the petite redhead, when she tossed him a pointed glare Phillip held his hands up in surrender and began to lift his shirt up and over his head. He waited for her to turn around, his shirt hanging limply from his hand. The tall Lenape man was honestly puzzled about what Kate intended to do. Someone honestly helping him was a foreign concept.

"Okay," Kate let out a slow breath as she spun around. "This is probably going to hurt…a lot."

He laughed, "Can't be much worse than when I actually got stabbed."

"Right," her voice was airy, an attempt to maintain her composure. "So, um, hold still," Kate's command was more of a question.

Her cool hands came to settle on the skin of his side, carefully framing the yawning flesh. Phillip gritted his teeth and tilted his head back, looking up at the stained ceiling tiles. Of all the dreams and musings Phillip had happened to have about Kate touching him, none of them involved a grocery store bathroom or her intending to patch him up.

"Not to interrupt," Phillip spoke slowly as Kate's breath against his bare torso caused the skin to tighten, "but is this such a good idea?"

"It's infected," Kate told him emphatically, head shaking ever so slightly in disbelief.

Gaze dropping to the curve of Kate's back, Phillip frowned, "I mean dragging me into a public bathroom, if somebody saw us…"

"Seriously," Kate looked up at him, "you're going to talk about my father right now?"

"Kate, I don't want you getting in trouble because of me."

Pulling back, Kate doused a clean stack of gauze with isopropyl alcohol, "I'm not some little girl. Any _trouble_ I get into is my own fault."

Without any warning the gauze was pressed against his wound, causing Phillip to stiffen sharply and a grunt to issue from between clenched teeth at the stinging. Just as quickly as the pain lanced through him, it disappeared. Kate blew a stream of cool air onto the wound, soothing away the sting of the alcohol. Small hands worked steadily, cleaning and setting fresh gauze over the wound, taping it in place.

Despite the clear annoyance Phillip had caused, Kate's touch had never lost its tenderness. "I know you're not a little girl," admitted Phillip as he let his fingers thread through the long strands of Kate's hair. "But that doesn't mean you should be hanging around me, if your father found out, this wound would be the least of my worries."

Kate straightened and pushed her hair back over her shoulder, "You have a point."

"I know," Phillip laughed. "Your dad is kind of scary, and I know scary."

Scoffing Kate began to clean up the mess, "You need to go to the doctor, today."

"Yeah, that's not happening," said flatly as he began to slip his shirt back on.

Less than impressed with his answer Kate scowled at Phillip. The retort died on the tip of her tongue as she finally noticed how, well, hot, Phillip looked. He was all muscle, a smattering of dark hair coated his chest, and a thin trail led down from his bellybutton. Kate's breath evaporated, leaving her lungs starving as she traced the contours of his muscles with her eyes.

Phillip was more observant than people gave him credit for. He knew exactly what had Kate's tongue caught between her teeth, pupil's dilating. Sliding his shirt the rest of the way down, Phillip smirked, "Were you saying something?"

"What," green eyes widened sharply before Kate relaxed, "You need stitches, you're going to the doctor."

"Thanks for patching me up, Kate," the tall man offered her a smile as he turned to the door, flipping the lock open, "but you can't make me go."

If Phillip had been any less formidable of a man, Kate might have termed his exit as stomping off like a child. But Phillip was formidable, and he was a grown man not a child. Without a huff of irritation Kate stormed after him.

Kate crossed the parking lot following Phillip, her boots tapping against the pavement and her arms swung furiously as she marched. While Kate was too short to match Phillip's long stride, her indignation fueled her speed, bringing her to level with Phillip's truck just as he was getting into it. Without wavering Kate yanked the door open and pulled herself up into the truck.

"Jeeze," Phillip started, dropping his hand from the ignition, "get out, Kate."

"No," she crossed her arms stubbornly, "I'm not going anywhere until you agree to go see a doctor."

"It's not happening," Phillip returned.

"Well then I guess I'm not getting out."

Curling his hands around the steering wheel Phillip tapped his booted foot against the floorboards. It had taken all of his willpower to walk away from Kate. She was persuasive in a very unique way. One look from Kate had Phillip bending to her will. Her touching him, taking care of him, had been too much. He didn't want her to leave, but Phillip was losing control. He wanted to do more than casual touch her hand or her hair. He wanted to bury his face in her neck, wrap his hands around the curve of her hips and pull her against him.

"Fine," he grunted out, "I'll go. Now get out."

"I'm not an idiot, unlike some people," Kate snorted, unaware of Phillip's dilemma, "I'm going with you, to make sure you actually get seen."

Kate jumped as the heel of Phillip's palm slammed down on the steering wheel. "Put your seat-belt on," Phillip told her as he turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

They drove in near silence, Phillip flipping the radio on and tuning it haplessly to a soft rock channel. It was more to fill the silence as they drove than for pleasure. Admittedly Phillip wasn't quite sure what to say, so he focused on the road, being more careful than he usually was. It boiled down to the fact that he was nervous. It was an unfamiliar feeling, not something he had truly felt since he was a teen.

In an unspoken decision they ended up at a clinic in the town over. It was obvious to both of them that they couldn't go to a clinic in Walpole. The town was just too small for that to go unnoticed.

Even as Kate slid from the truck she knew this was a dangerous line to cross, "Go on, I'll be there in a minute."

Phillip didn't argue for once, he just nodded and started towards the clinic doors. Kate took that chance to lean back against the truck and pull her phone out. She tapped the screen sharply before putting it to her ear.

"Hey, Dad," Kate tucked her free arm under her chest, supporting her other arm. "Yeah, I just finished, anyway, Janey, my chem partner, wanted to go see that new horror movie. I don't have to go if you need me home," Kate trailed off, knowing that her father would tell her to go. "Thanks, Daddy, I'll text you when the movie ends, love you too."

Tucking her phone back into her purse, Kate looked towards the clinic, and there he was, standing outside, watching her. Arms hugging her torso, Kate strode across the short distance.

"I thought I told you to go in."

"Like I was going to leave you alone in a parking lot by yourself in a strange town," Phillip snorted.

Kate couldn't be mad at that, so she walked towards the door, Phillip pulling it open for her before she could reach for the handle.

It smelled like a clinic, the sharpness of cleaning products heavy in the air. The waiting room was half-full, but the receptionist seemed all too happy to help any and everybody.

"I need to see a doctor," Phillip said lowly as they reached the desk.

Rolling her eyes Kate smiled, "Hi," she glanced at the woman's nametag, "Sarah. He has an infected wound, I think it needs stitches."

Sarah was a woman edging in on middle-age, but she was perky. She nodded and gathered a few forms and stacked them on a clipboard. Sarah held the clipboard out to Phillip, "Here you go, just fill these out and bring them back."

A grunt was all Sarah got before Kate flashed an apologetic smile and followed Phillip over to a small couch. Phillip sat down and flipped through the stack of papers, "What the hell is this crap?"

"Here," Kate tugged the clipboard from his hand, "let me help."

With an odd ease, Kate filled out the form, pausing briefly in her writing to ask Phillip questions, or confirm information. The whole scene was oddly domestic. Phillip was enjoying Kate leaning in to him and whispering to him, as though it happened all the time.

* * *

"Phillip," Sarah called after almost half an hour of waiting. Standing, Phillip glanced down at Kate who gave him a soft, encouraging smile. "Your girlfriend is welcome to come back with you," Sarah tipped her head at Kate.

Phillip looked down at the redhead who was once again blushing, god she was beautiful. "You heard the lady, Kate," Phillip offered, not denying the connection between them.

Cheeks flaming in embarrassment Kate rose to her feet and walked beside Phillip, biting back the smile as his arm curled around her back, hand resting against her hip.

Phillip's arm dropped from around Kate the moment Sarah left the room. He probably should have rejected the assumption, but was enjoying pretending Kate was his. It was easier to justify in his head, and in front of people who already assumed, but alone, Phillip didn't have a reason to keep up the charade.

* * *

The doc, after poking and prodding Phillip unnecessarily, determined that stitches were indeed required, and a dose of needles shoved into the already irritated flesh. Lying back on the exam bed, Phillip twisted so he could see Kate. She was biting her lip as she waited for the doctor to return and stitch the man on the table up.

Lips curled upward in humor, Phillip quirked a brow at her, "Aren't you going to hold my hand?"

He was teasing her, and Kate wasn't about to let that pass. Rising, Kate set her purse down on the seat and walked over to the table, and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. With a little sass Kate extended her hand, daring him to take it. To Kate's surprise he did, his hand sliding around hers. Neither heard the door open or saw Sarah walk in.

"You can sit on the table if you like," the older woman offered, causing both occupants of the room to jump. "Just put his head in your lap and we should be good, it'll keep you out of the way, Kate."

Making the decision for them, Phillip sat up a little, and used his grip on Kate's hand to pull her closer to the table. As soon as Kate was seated on the table, her back against the wall, Phillip's head came down on her lap and he reclaimed her hand, pulling it to rest against his shirtless chest.

"Comfy," Sarah asked sweetly.

"Very," Phillip smiled up at Kate.

Nodding wordlessly, Kate gave a faint grin, trying to force the storm in her stomach to settle before it turned to nervous laughter. Despite the burning in her lower belly, Kate couldn't help but feel safe and warm, that sitting here with Phillip's head nestled in her lap was right. Feeling brave, Kate dipped the fingertips of her free hand into his dark hair, finger combing it. Phillip always made her feel braver and braver. Nails lightly scraping against his scalp, Kate felt warmth seep through her body as Phillip's eyes slipped closed and his face relaxed.

Bodies entwined as much as possible in the situation, Kate comforted Phillip as the doctor sutured the wound closed. Phillip, who was not typically a passive man, was more relaxed in those long moments than he had been in his memory. Kate's scent and her skin pressed against his and her hand in his hair were lulling him into calmness of mind that Phillip hadn't ever known except in physical exhaustion.

* * *

With a great deal of reluctance Phillip had removed himself from Kate's hold and they had exited the clinic. Once more Phillip drove Kate home, taking the longest route he knew. Once more Phillip parked a little ways from the Jensen house and turned to Kate.

"You didn't have to do that," Phillip told her, trying to express his gratitude for holding him, being his comfort.

In another fit of bravery, Kate leaned across the cab and wrapped her arms around Phillip's neck, hugging him tightly. Even though she released her hold on him before he could react, the heavy, warm, scent of man and a subtle smokiness that was all Phillip rooted itself in Kate's senses. Licking her lips as she pulled away, scrambled from the truck, flashed Phillip a brilliant smile that had her whole face shining.

Pausing, she leaned back into the truck, appraising the shocked man, "If you don't take care of yourself, I'll never get to see the mountain."

Kate backed away and closed the truck door. She walked away from him again. Her words were meant as a joke, a jibe to make him take care of himself, but to Phillip they were a silent promise.

He was late. Phillip knocked sharply on the door, holding an apple pie in one hand. The door swung open to show Marie, scowl set in place.

"You're late."

"I know," Phillip didn't bother arguing, "I brought dessert."

A soft snort and an eye roll were his reward as Marie pushed the screen door open to let Phillip in.

"You're lucky Mac was held up by the council still isn't here," Marie continued. "So why are you late?"

"I was at the doctor."

Marie led him further into the house, into the kitchen where Junior was already sitting at the table. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Ma," Phillip told her, an indulgent smile settling into place. "How are you Junior?"

"Fine," it was terse reply. But, at least it was a reply.

Phillip had no illusions about how awkward this dinner was going to be. Putting the pie on the counter, Phillip offered to help, something he wasn't prone to doing often, but he figured he was already on thin ice. It earned him a smile and a hug. It wasn't the best hug Phillip had gotten that day, but it was nice nonetheless.

* * *

Dinner was awkward as expected, but it had been civil. Marie had seen to that. After dinner Phillip had retreated to the backroom to fix a hinge Marie had complained about. Junior, while polite, had taken the first chance he had to escape the house. So, while Phillip set to repairing a broken hinge, Marie and Mac cleaned the kitchen up.

"He looks happy today," Marie's voice filtered down the short hall to Phillip.

Mac's heavy sigh was barely audible, "I checked up with his job, he's been behaving, but I don't like him being here."

"We've written him off almost all his life, Mac, what if he's really trying to turn over a new leaf," Marie pleaded. "I wasn't the best mother, Mac. He deserved better, maybe if I had been what he needed, he wouldn't have ended up like he has."

"Marie," Mac hummed, "that boy has been trouble since the day he opened his eyes."

"I don't want to lose him, if we keep pushing him away, if I do, I'll lose him for good," Marie's voice was sharp with sorrow. "He's a good boy at heart. He tried to protect Junior in the end. He deserves a fair chance."

"Which is why he has a job and a roof over his head," Mac told his sister. "We'll see what happens, Marie, but I'm not just going to reinstate him, no matter how much you ask. He needs to earn that. He needs to earn the trust of the tribe."

"He will," was the confident reply, "he's different. Ever since he's come home, he's been different."

"I'll give you that," mused Mac, "something is different."

Resuming his work, Phillip couldn't help but have a little bit of hope. Marie was right, he was different. He was trying to be a good man. All for Kate. Yes it stung that he had been dis-enrolled from the tribe, that Junior hated him, that he had proved Mac right about him, but all Phillip wanted now was for Kate to look at him and smile like the world didn't exist and it was just the two of them.

Kate was everything to Phillip.

* * *

A/N: Ah! I was so happy to see Kate back in the latest episode. Anyway, this has been in progress for a few days. Shout out to all my lovely reviewers, I can't wait to hear what you think of this dose of Phillip &amp; Kate.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

Phillip slammed the door to the house shut. He had spent his morning repairing the last hole in the roof. He had been cleaning up when Marie had marched into his house like she was on a mission, granted she always had something going on in that head of hers.

"What the hell are you doing," Phillip called into the house.

Marie's raised voice filtered through the house, "Cleaning!"

Shaking his head Phillip flipped the tap on the sink up and cupped his hands beneath the water. After a moment Phillip dipped his head and splashed the water up and into his face, dragging the cool liquid through his sweat-matted hair.

"Thirty-four and you're still a mess," the curly haired woman chuckled as she appeared in the doorway, a laundry basket propped against her hip. "You know," Marie began to dig through the heap of laundry, half-heartedly sorting the clothes, "you were _so_ cute as a kid, a handful, but cute."

Phillip's eyes rolled, the jibe on the tip of his tongue about how his _mother_ had run off when he was a kid was swallowed, "Yeah, adorable."

The basket thunked down on the table and Marie gave an eye-roll of her own, "I have the baby pictures to prove it." The shudder was expected, Phillip wasn't exactly the kind of man that aspired to cute or adorable, in fact it was the antithesis of who he had become.

Marie's unconscious muttering and humming abruptly stopped as she pulled a small sweatshirt out from the basket.

"What the hell is this," his mother's sharp tone had Phillip's head whipping up.

She was shaking a navy sweatshirt that was too small to be Phillip's, curled across the front of it declaring "Columbia Art School" were white letters. A tightness formed in Phillip's throat, his mouth going dry as Kate's sweatshirt was dangled in front of him.

Marie shook her fisted hand, the material clenched in her fingers, "I asked you what the hell this is?" When Phillip still didn't speak Marie shook her head in frustration, it felt like old times. "Phillip!"

"It's a friend's," Phillip grumbled, hands clenching as he fought the urge to rip the prized fabric from his mother's grip.

A dry laugh erupted from Marie's mouth. It was short and filled with disbelief. "Who do you know that owns a Columbia University sweatshirt?"

"It's a friends," Phillip repeated as he snatched the fabric away, burying his fingers into the soft cotton.

"What friend of yours has college aspirations," Marie shook her head, "what the hell is going on, Phillip?"

"Nothing, okay," Phillip growled and pushed past her, towards his bedroom.

The sharp sound of Marie's palm meeting the wood table echoed, "No, not okay, Phillip!" She stormed after him, intent on finishing whatever had started. "Is it Sky?"

"What," Phillip turned as he haphazardly folded the sweatshirt and tucked it into his drawer. "No, it's not Sky. Where the hell do get this crap?"

"Sky told me you guys had dinner," Marie leaned against the door, arms crossed over her chest, a forced calm coating her.

"Yeah," Phillip admitted, "Last year, she's nice and all, but not my type."

"Don't tell her that," Marie snorted lightly, "that girl doesn't take rejection well. You should have seen what she did after her first choice college didn't accept her."

Phillip's eyes widened in surprise a little before he shrugged, "Yeah? Well, it's not her.

"Okay," Marie said slowly. "So what's going on?"

Phillip ran a hand over his face, and leaned back against the dresser, "Nothing is going on."

"Don't bullshit me," Marie huffed. "You're guarding that sweatshirt, so tell me why."

Phillip was uncomfortable. Marie was right. He was guarding Kate's sweatshirt, guarding her. Kate was the one good thing in Phillip's life. He was, understandably, defensive and possessive.

"What could be so bad that you won't tell me," Marie asked with a sigh.

There was plenty wrong with the whole thing. The fact that he had become obsessed with the last person on the planet he should, the fact that he knew it was wrong and was still seeing her, the fact that maybe she didn't hate him. There was plenty wrong. A lot of it being illegal, not to mention dangerous to Phillip's health.

Marie took the silence as any mother did. So she changed tactics, "So this girl, does she know you were in prison?"

His muscles flexed in reaction to the question. Marie was oddly intuitive when she took the time, "Yes."

"Okay, and she's not Lenape," Marie said slowly. It wouldn't make sense. The tribe wasn't so big that Marie wouldn't have heard about an Ivy hopeful.

Phillip nodded tightly, "She's not."

"Okay," it was enough for Marie, at least for the moment. "You like this girl?"

Phillip's head tipped forward, a small smile edging onto his face.

* * *

Kate sat at the kitchen table, her legs crossed beneath her as she bent over a sketch pad. The soft murmur of Rachel and Junior added to her mother's humming had Kate half distracted. She was trying to draw a rowboat floating abandoned in the center of a lake. As she adjusted the angle of her pencil the lead snapped. Kate flinched. She hated drawing with mechanical pencils.

Dropping her pencil to the table, Kate leaned back against her wooden chair. Junior had arrived early in the morning and been welcomed with open arms. It was sort of weird. Kate knew her mother was compensating for her negative emotions towards Junior by being overly nice. It was how Kate's mother seemed to be handling most things post-breakdown. All of her actions and reactions were normal, but on steroids. Like being extra normal would make up for being extra crazy.

That wasn't a fair assessment. Kate knew she was more than a little bitter. Jean was sick. She had schizophrenia and had been struggling with it alone. So Kate had been the dutiful daughter, and it had only made her more bitter. Pushing back from the table and rising, Kate gathered her sketchbook and pencils. She couldn't sit and listen to the giggling and whispers, Kate was ready to go and hide in the garage. It might be a little stuffy and hot, but at least it would be quiet.

"Where are you going," Jean's voice called, "Kate?"

Pursing her lips Kate turned around and walked back towards the dining room, "I'm going to go upstairs."

"Come on, Sweetheart," Jean smiled, extending her hand and beckoning Kate in, "come and talk with us."

Rachel nodded, a more genuine smile gracing her lips, "Yeah, come have some fun."

Forcing a smile, Kate nodded and stepped into the dining room and settled into a chair beside her mother and across from Junior.

"Hey, Kate," Junior mumbled awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable in the situation, Kate sympathized with him.

"Hi," Kate returned the greeting, folding her hands carefully in her lap, sketchbook clutched against her stomach.

"So," Rachel breathed, "You were telling us about your Uncle?"

"Yeah, Mac," Junior nodded his head.

"He's the Lenape Chief, right," the question slipped from Kate's lips before she could stop it.

Both Rachel and Jean were staring at her. Junior only nodded, "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Oh, um," she wavered, head tilting down to hide the frantic look in her eyes, "There's been a lot of news about him lately."

"Mm," Jean nodded, "There's been a lot of talk in town too."

"Well Mac's a good guy," Junior bit out, tapping his foot on the wood floor.

"And your mom," Jean questioned, "how is she?"

"She's been real busy lately, the house is pretty full some days, Phillip moved out a few days after he moved back in," Junior rattled out.

"Kopus is back," Kate watched the words come out of Rachel's mouth, the paleness of her sister's face becoming starker.

Mistaking Kate's anxiety for confusion Jean turned to her youngest daughter, "Phillip is Junior's half-brother. I grew up with him. He's come around the house a couple of times."

"Who's come around the house," Harold asked as he stepped into the room, leaning down to give Jean a kiss.

The woman leaned into his touch, "Uh, we were just talking about Phillip, Kate's never met him, so she was confused."

The chipper words made Harold stiffen, his eyes zoned in on Kate. Pure, sweet, Katie who had certainly met Phillip Kopus. They had never talked about it. When Harold had come home after the whole sorry affair had been put to bed Kate had been fast asleep. Harold had meant to bring it up, to ask her if she was okay, but he never had. The more time that passed the harder it became.

Harold still had nightmares about what happened, what could have happened. Kopus' words echoing in the corner of his mind. Kopus had worn a tiny little smirk as he asked about Kate, voice deep and slow, savoring the memory.

The subject had become taboo. It terrified Harold to think about what Kopus might have done, could have done. Neither had spoken about it, not to each other, not to anyone else.

"Yeah," Kate's soft, honey voice broke the cop from his thoughts.

Shifting his stance, Harold leaned against Kate's chair, fingers brushing against her hair. "You see him yet," the older man asked Junior, voice too airy to be natural.

"Not really," the teen shrugged, "we had a family dinner. It was fine."

"Good."

Kate kept still; she could feel the tension in her father's body, the way his fingers had tangled against a few strands of her hair, tugging painfully.

It seemed Junior could sense the hostility as well because he moved to stand, "I should get going."

"No," Rachel grabbed his hand, "please don't, I haven't seen you in forever."

"Yeah," Jean leaned across the table, "stay, I'm making steak for dinner."

An easy nod came from Harold, "You should stay, you're always welcome here, Junior."

"Thanks."

"Okay," Jean stood up, "I'm going to get started on dinner. This is going to be so much fun!" In a flash of red hair, Jean was in the kitchen noise beginning to bubble up.

Rachel had already drawn Junior back into a soft conversation, their hands linked below the table. Taking the chance of distraction, Kate slipped from the chair, knowing that her father would likely follow her rather than be left with Rachel and Junior.

"Hey," Kate was right. Harold's quick steps and soft voice stopped Kate's movement.

Shoulders curling in, Kate wrapped her arms protectively around her middle, "What's up?"

Her father stepped closer, a hand settling on her shoulder and rubbing up and down her arm. "I just wanted to check on you," he leaned a little closer.

"I'm fine," Kate played dumb, "Mom's fine."

"Okay," Harold agreed, pulling Kate into his chest, hugging her tightly. "Good."

* * *

"Kopus," Harold banged on the front door of the slightly less rundown house.

"What the hell, Harold," Kopus complained as he came around the house.

Hands braced on his hips, his right hand a little too close to his gun for the taller man's comfort, Harold glared at Phillip. "I wanted to check in on you, make sure you're staying out of trouble."

Tongue kissing his teeth, Phillip scowled and lifted the leg of his pant to display the tracking device, "Can't really get up to much with this on, but thanks for playing."

"You seen Junior," Harold pressed.

Dropping his grip on the fabric Phillip started walking again, stepping up onto the porch. "Yeah, once," Phillip sniffed, "Why, he in trouble?"

"No," Harold shook his head, "Junior's fine, just wondering."

"Yeah, well why don't you go wonder somewhere else," Phillip grunted as he picked up a concrete block and tossed it over the metal railing. "Don't you have a family to get home to or something?"

"Yeah," Harold assented tightly, "yeah I do. Stay out of trouble, Kopus."

"Whatever," the man grumbled as he stalked into the house and away from the smarmy cop who he was really trying not to punch.

* * *

"Night, Sweetheart," Harold kissed the crown of Kate's head. "Night, Rachel."

"Night, Dad," the girls chorused as he closed the door of their room.

After switching the lights off, the girls lay in silence. Kate rolled onto her side and stretched as the faint glow of Rachel's phone lit up the ceiling.

"Dad was kind of weird about Junior, right," Rachel sighed. "I mean, even Junior noticed."

"I don't think it was Junior," Kate offered, hands balling in her sheets, "I think it was that guy, Phillip."

"Yeah I guess," was the huffy reply, "but still…"

"Mom liked him," Kate tried to change the subject, offering up something happy in return for something puzzling.

Rachel sat up, the covers rustling, "Yeah, but it was kind of creepy how into talking to him she is."

"He's your boyfriend," the younger girl reminded Rachel, "and she probably feels bad for threatening to kill him or whatever."

"This family is so messed up," the words were a dejected sigh.

For once Rachel was right, Kate thought. The Jensen family was very messed up, extremely so. Between the lies, the secrets, and the favoritism, Kate was surprised they hadn't tried to kill each other.

* * *

She had genuinely tried to sleep, but Junior's visit had stirred up Kate's thoughts. She was thinking about Phillip, worrying about him really. Once Kate was sure Rachel was asleep she crept out of her bed, sliding her sock covered feet across the wood floor. Breath held tightly until her lungs burned, Kate opened her bedroom door centimeter by centimeter, terrified that a door that had never creaked in her lifetime might choose the most inopportune moment to start.

Once Kate was safely in the hallway she considered exactly what she was doing. Kate didn't have a plan per say, it was more of an odd thrumming in heart, demanding she do something. She needed to make sure he was okay, that he hadn't popped any stitches. Kate needed to hear his voice.

The door to her parents' room was half open, and she could hear the heavy breathing of both of them. Heart shuddering with adrenalin, Kate leaned her head inside the bedroom. The moonlight of late spring shone brightly, illuminating exactly what Kate was looking for: her father's cell phone. It sat alone on the bedside table. It was well within Kate's reach. All it would take would be a half step and a steady hand. Chest burning and feeling faint, Kate choked down her nerves, the reward outweighed the risk.

Hand shaking slightly Kate reached out and curled her fingers around the plastic. Eyes flicking up to make sure her parents were still asleep, Kate lifted her hand straight up, petrified that the phone might scrape against the wood. Once it was safely in her possession Kate backed out of the room and walked slowly down the hall to the stairs, forcing herself to keep her pace steady and her footsteps light.

Kate paused at the top and turned the phone on, thankfully, and rather unsurprisingly, there was no pass-code required. The nerves had and adrenalin had faded away leaving Kate feeling shaky and boneless. She tapped the screen of the phone, accessing her father's contacts. There weren't that many numbers saved in the phone, and it became immediately apparent which one was the one she was looking for.

It was the only name that didn't include a first and a last name, the only one that had only one number attached. Sliding her own phone out, Kate created a new contact, carefully typing in Phillip's phone number, adding an "a" to the end of his name. It wasn't exactly James Bond subterfuge, but Kate was running on desperation.

The number saved, Kate retraced her steps and very carefully replaced the phone. A different sort of anxiety was building inside Kate. Licking her dry lips, Kate moved back to the stairs and tiptoed downstairs. She didn't stop there; Kate went into the garage and curled up on her father's weight bench. It was late, too late to call, but Kate tapped the number anway.

Kate sat with her knees pulled against her chest, phone pressed to ear. It seemed like forever that the phone rang, Kate was half sure he wouldn't answer when a gruff voice barked, "Who the hell is this?"

Unsure of how to respond Kate could only breath out, mouth hanging open.

"Hello," Phillip grumbled, voice rough and hazy, "hello?"

"It's me," Kate finally managed to warble out. "It's me, Kate."

The voice on the other end softened immediately, "Kate? Are you okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she stuttered, "I'm fine, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Across the line Phillip's muffled breathing echoed, creaking springs and rustling fabric falling into the background. "I'm fine," he told her, "you don't need to worry about me, Kate."

"Obviously I do," Kate told him sharply, remembering the gaping and inflamed skin that she had tried to patch up. "Someone needs to take care of you."

Phillip didn't answer right away. There wasn't an easy answer to that, not for Phillip at least. "I'm fine," he finally affirmed. "How did you get this number, Kate?"

"My dad," she answered, tucking her chin against her knees.

Phillip's voice was stiff with shock, "Harold gave you my phone number."

"Not really," Kate hedged.

"You took it then," Phillip's voice curled against Kate's ear, his amusement making her spine tingle.

"Right out of his phone," Kate confirmed.

"That's," Phillip inhaled audibly, a million words flitting in the silence. "Kate," Phillip groaned.

"Well how else was I supposed to talk to you," Kate questioned, misreading his meaning. "Every time we meet it has been by accident."

"It doesn't have to be."

The words were quiet, hesitant. Not something Kate had expected. What she knew of Phillip from others painted him as an intensely self-assured person.

"Yeah," Kate asked, smiling against her knees.

Phillip chuckled lowly, "Yeah."

"You're really okay," Kate bit her lip.

"I'm perfect," Phillip told her, "I promised someone very important that I would take care of myself, I don't want to break her heart."

"Yeah," Kate pushed back her jumpy giggles.

"Yeah," Phillip repeated. Their breathing drifted in the air, spanning the distance through crackling phone lines. At last Phillip sighed, "It's late, Katie, you should get some sleep."

Kate didn't want to hang up, but Phillip was right, "Okay."

The dejection in Kate's voice made Phillip sit up a little straighter, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Night," Kate whispered.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," Phillip exhaled as the call ended, the endearment tumbling out without thought.

* * *

Clutching her phone against her chest, Kate crept back upstairs to her bedroom. Phillip's voice ringing in her ears, the soft, gruff, warmth that made Kate's whole body tingle and her heart flutter.

Curling back under the covers Kate jumped as Rachel's hazy voice broke the stillness, "Where were you?"

"I was just getting some water," Kate lied, hoping Rachel was still mostly asleep.

Rachel twisted in her bed, "Mm, I thought I heard you talking."

"You must have been dreaming," Kate gulped down a panicky squeak.

"Mkay, night Kate," Rachel yawned, body twisting again and thumping against the mattress.

Lying back, Kate sank beneath the covers, tucking them beneath her body, cocooning herself in warmth. Eyes closed tightly against the soft glow of the moon, Kate's toes curled and a smile broke across her face as she thought about Phillip. She felt shaky and a little sick. But in a good way.

* * *

A/N: I know this has taken me a while. It has been a rough couple of weeks, but I'm starting to feel a little more balanced. I really appreciate all of the lovely feedback (it astounds me every time someone reviews how supportive you all are), and the acceptance for this pairing. I have really fallen for Kate &amp; Phillip and I hope that love comes across in my construction. Hopefully I should have another chapter up soon, so let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

It had been a struggle for Kate to get up Friday morning. Rachel had been up and on the move before Kate had even considered throwing the covers off. Rachel had even gotten their father to come and check on Kate, worried that she might be sick. Kate wasn't sick. She was exhausted however. But she didn't care. The only thing she could think about was how good it had felt to hear Phillip talk, calm her, soothe her.

Yawning, Kate practically tripped down the stairs, mumbling nonsensically to Jean who was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Come on," Rachel yelled from the garage, "we're going to be late."

"Sorry," the younger girl muttered as she raced to the already running car and opened the door.

Rachel just smiled tightly and began to pull out of the garage, not bothering to wait for Kate to buckle-up. It was a fairly good impression of mom, at least Kate thought so.

"You feeling okay," Rachel asked, a façade of focus firmly in place.

Fingers clenching around the phone in her hand, Kate smiled sweetly, "Fine."

"You're usually up before me, you sure you're okay," Rachel pressed.

"Yeah," she answered. "I just didn't sleep well, nothing major."

Lip caught between her teeth Rachel frowned, "It helps if you actually try to lay in bed."

"I needed water," Kate's calm shook. She wasn't nervous or anxious, just…irritated. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake."

"Look, Katie," Rachel rolled to a stop at an intersection, "I'm just worried. Mom's checked out, Dad's so busy trying to pretend everything is getting better, and you're slipping through the cracks. You might think I don't notice, but I do. Whatever it is, I've been there."

The ridiculousness of the sentiment nearly had Kate laughing. Yes, Kate loved her sister, she loved her entire family, but she wasn't an idiot or insane. There wasn't a chance in hell that Kate was about to take advice from Rachel or any of them.

"It's just stress, I'm taking two AP tests next week and then there are finals, and it's just a lot," the words spilled a little _too_ easily from Kate's mouth. Lying was getting easier.

Rachel nodded, "Okay. _That_ I get. Not the AP part, but the test part. I have to take the ACT again. Just don't panic, okay, Kate?"

Kate nodded wordlessly, letting the conversation fall into nothingness. It really was easy to lie to her family.

* * *

By third hour the younger Jensen girl was more than a little distracted and frazzled. Phillip hadn't kept his promise. Kate knew she was jumping to conclusions, or putting the horse before the cart, but she felt abandoned…at least a little. Mostly Kate was just worried. Talking to Phillip had assuaged some of her fears, but Kate needed to see him. Needed to be able to see he was okay.

Instead of paying attention to her physics class, Kate was doodling in her notebook attempting to distract herself from the fact that her phone hadn't flickered on with a new message. Making strong marks with her pen, Kate transformed the half-filled page with a triangle pattern surrounded by black shadows. It wasn't something Kate had drawn before, but it was familiar. She blinked at the pattern filling the page as it became obvious where the idea had come from: Phillip. It was Phillip's tattoo, the one that wrapped around his left forearm.

Angrily, Kate ripped the page from the notebook and crumpled it. Kate had never been easily distracted. She had never been like Rachel or Jean. Kate was a nerd, a geek. She enjoyed learning and she had never quite learned how to be a social butterfly. Kate had thrived in the quieter world. And yet she was sitting in a class she enjoyed and hadn't heard a single word because of a boy. Okay, man. Phillip was most certainly a man. A very hot man.

"Okay," Kate whispered to herself, "clearly I have a problem."

"Talking to yourself is typically a problem, yeah," an amused voice interrupted Kate.

"Shut up, Sam," Kate gritted out, embarrassed that her lab partner and sometimes-friend had heard her.

"That hurts, you know," Sam winked, "so what's got you blushing, thinking about me I hope."

"No," the petite woman grumbled, "I wasn't thinking about you."

"Why not," the tall boy leaned closer, his chin dropping onto her shoulder, the chemical scent of body spray heavy. "I'm adorable."

"I don't do adorable," Kate snorted, "too cutesy."

Sam pouted, "So I'm not your type, that hurts, Katie-Pie, that really hurts."

"Shut up, Sam," Kate couldn't help but giggle.

Sam was something else. He had always been a good student, much like Kate, but he had somehow managed to infiltrate the cool kids and still be nice to Kate. He _was_ cute, and Kate could admit to looking more than a few times, but he hadn't been more than a blip on her radar since she had met Phillip.

And she was back to Phillip. She needed to see him. Hearing from him wouldn't be good enough. Kate felt like she was in a desert, disoriented and hopeless, desperate for just a drop of him.

Shaking herself and pushing Sam from her, Kate sat a little straighter. She was determined not to zone out for the entire lesson. There was no guarantee that Phillip would try to call her, or when. There was no point in putting so much hope in the off chance that her phone would ring.

* * *

After a disastrous third hour, Kate had chucked her phone in her locker in a sad attempt to put it from her mind. It hadn't worked, so Kate had asked to use the restroom and snuck off to her locker. Holding her breath, body feeling hollow, Kate lifted the catch of her locker and grabbed the phone that sat abandoned. Tapping the power button Kate's heart raced. There on the screen was the notification.

Fire racing through her body, Kate opened the message.

**Hope you're having a good day. I'm fine.**

It was a stupid text, it felt like an obligation, but it meant the world to Kate. He had kept his promise without excuses. She paused, leaning half into her locker as she considered how to respond. She had never been one to play the games Rachel did with boys, Kate was too shy in that manner to play.

**Better now. You kept your promise.**

Tucking the phone into her pocket Kate headed back to class. She was smart enough not to expect Phillip to immediately text her back. Hell she hadn't expected him to text her at all. At most she was expecting a missed call.

Just as Kate slumped down in her seat her phone buzzed again.

**I made a promise to you, Kate. **

It was easy to read what Phillip hadn't written. He took promises to her seriously; he wanted her to be happy, to trust him.

**Are you really okay?**

The phone was slipped between Kate's thighs, hidden from view but easily accessed.

**I'm fine, I promise.**

Kate almost rolled her eyes at the words. This promise wasn't really a promise. It was meant to pacify her. To keep her calm and happy. Kate figured that Phillip _was_ probably fine, at least by his definition.

**What are you doing today?**

The change of subject was necessary. Kate wasn't satisfied by Phillip's assessment of his health, but she knew that if she kept pushing she would only get more anxious. Instead she settled for a benign topic. Really Kate just liked knowing that he was thinking about her, that he cared enough to respond to her.

**Work. We're fixing potholes. Very exciting stuff. What are you "learning"?**

She could almost hear his voice, low and gruff. A shiver raced down Kate's spine. She _really_ had a problem.

* * *

"Who're you texting," Rachel finally asked while they watched TV.

"No one," Kate denied, thumb coming down on the power button protectively, "Just Sam and Rebecca."

"_Just _Sam and Rebecca," the older girl asked dubiously, "Right. Unless you're about to admit your dating Sam, I don't buy it."

"I'm not dating Sam."

"Then what's up," Rachel pushed. "Come on, I need something juicy. Is he _hot_?"

A choking noise erupted from Kate as she tried to breathe normally, "What?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Rachel jumped up from the couch. "Now I'm going to go call _my_ boyfriend, so if you want to keep on lying you can do it to yourself."

Rachel flounced out of the room, laughing at her sister's flustered spluttering. Kate took that opportunity, with her mother and father out on date night to do some last minute snooping. Snooping might have been a harsh word, but Kate needed information. Information she couldn't just ask for.

Her father, for all his brilliance, was too trusting of his family. Harold kept his case-notes in an unlocked safety box on the top shelf of the spare bedroom that he no longer inhabited. So that was where Kate went. With an eye for detail, Kate shifted through the contents until she came to the exact file she was looking for. It was manila with a mug-shot clipped to the front; beneath it were a few post-it notes with chicken-scratch handwriting.

It wasn't the first place Kate had looked. She had already checked her father's GPS and the notepad he kept in his truck. Neither had yielded Phillip's address. The only other possible places for the information to be were at the police station or in Harold's personal records. And Kate was right. Phillip's parole information with an updated address were scrawled on one of the blue post-its.

After snapping a picture of the address, Kate rearranged all of the papers and lifted the box back up into the closet. She made sure everything was in place before she returned to the living room, ready to pretend she had been watching whatever reality TV show was on.

Friday ended with Kate clutching her phone, warmth snaking through her body as she reread the texts she and Phillip had exchanged. A hopeful smile arced across her face as she considered the new information she had. Kate didn't just want to see Phillip, she needed to see him.

* * *

It hadn't been difficult to get out of the house Saturday morning. Kate had given a half-hearted excuse about hanging out with Rebecca, maybe going to see a movie or go shopping. Rebecca had been more than willing to be Kate's alibi. Rebecca was one of Kate's best friends, and she understood that sometimes Kate just needed peace and quiet.

Tossing her head back as she pedaled, Kate leaned with her bike as she followed the curve of the road. The warm breeze felt nice on her bare legs, the clear sky letting the sun shine brightly. It was a beautiful day, and Kate was in a _very _good mood. She was _going_ to see Phillip. Not that he knew that.

A meticulous planner, Kate had memorized every turn and street she needed to take to get to Phillip's. The route up towards the mountain was oddly quiet. Kate supposed that was due in part to the new restrictions. Fewer and fewer people had reason to be there. It was better that way. At least there would be a smaller chance that the wrong person would see Kate.

When the pavement turned to dirt, Kate knew she was close. Rolling to a stop she dropped her flip-flop clad feet to the ground. Tossing her leg over the seat Kate dismounted the bike and began to walk it up into the stone and woodchip path. Kate's feet squished unpleasantly against the path as she drew closer to her target.

With every step the awe on Kate's face built. The house wasn't much, but it was settled in a rather picturesque way. It was cradled by the forest, tall trees reaching up to the sky and isolating the house from the rest of the world. Absentmindedly, Kate leaned her bike against the porch, half-hidden by brush.

"Kate," the low rasp of Phillip's voice had Kate whipping around find the man in question scrambling down a ladder, "what are you doing here?"

"I was worried," Kate fidgeted, hands locked behind her back, twisting uneasily.

Phillip exhaled with a smile, "I told you I was fine."

"That doesn't mean I don't worry," was the instant response before Kate seemed to freeze. "I'm sorry," she blushed, head tilting forward, "I shouldn't have come."

"No," Phillip took a brisk step forward, "No, it's good to see you."

The embarrassment turned to happy surprise. Kate's head tilted back up so she could see Phillip's face, a grin transforming his face. As always Phillip's gaze was intense. The man really only had one setting in that respect. Shifting Kate grimaced as her right foot squelched against her sandal.

The smile on Phillip's face disappeared as he followed her shifting stance down to her feet. "Shit, Katie," Phillip breathed before he leaned down and scooped Kate up into his arms, her arm draped around his neck.

"What," the faint question was a breath against the man's cheek.

"Fucking paint sludge," the dark voice gritted out in anger.

Kate jerked slightly, looking down at her foot. Instead of the mud she expected, Kate found a sickly blue layer of, as Phillip aptly put it, sludge. Making short work of the walk up to the porch, Phillip managed to hold Kate with one arm as he opened the door and carried her inside.

"I'm fine," Kate told him, "It's just a little paint."

An incomprehensible grunt met Kate's protestation as she clung to Phillip, highly aware of the potential damage he could be doing to his side. Phillip made a beeline through the house, past a rickety looking bed and into a bathroom with a large, angular, tub. Slowly and carefully Phillip settled Kate on the edge of the tub, his hands sliding up her legs. Warm hands forced her legs apart, lifting her clean foot to rest on edge of the tub.

"Don't move," Phillip ordered as he moved purposefully through the house, his heavy footsteps echoing his agitated need.

Craning her neck, Kate surveyed the house. It was clean. Not hermetically clean like home, but clean nonetheless. It certainly looked lived in. There were boxes stacked in the corner, and the sheets on the bed were rumpled, but the floor was clean.

After a good deal of rustling from a distant room Phillip returned. Without ceremony he knelt beside the tub and settled one large hand on the bare skin of Kate's thigh. His long fingers squeezed her leg, both of them caught by the sight of his big hand against her. Phillip dwarfed Kate, making her look more delicate and tiny than she already was.

With one final squeeze Phillip released his grip and lifted a large jug of cider vinegar up onto the lip of the bathtub. With steady hands Phillip poured the jug over Kate's foot, nudging the flip-flop off so he could get as much of the liquid on her foot as possible.

"What is that stuff," Kate asked as the goop began to slide off her skin, the vinegar stinging her nose as it cleaned her skin.

Thumb stroking her ankle, Phillip spoke, "When I was a kid people started getting sick. A couple of years later people started noticing blue sludge seeping up through the ground. It's paint, toxic paint sludge. No one really knows where it came from, just that it was dangerous."

Phillip set the jug down and lifted Kate's foot a little higher, checking for anymore paint. Stretching, Phillip yanked a towel down from the bathroom counter and patted Kate's foot dry. His tender touch had Kate smiling, one hand braced on Phillip's shoulder.

"Okay," Phillip breathed as he lifted Kate up again.

A tiny noise of amusement and giddiness bubbled from Kate's lips as Phillip's gentle but firm touch had her skin burning. Phillip chuckled at Kate's response, settling her down onto the bed, his body hovering over hers for just a moment before he took Kate's newly clean foot and guided it into a bucket of what Kate soon learned was Epsom salt.

"It'll help pull any toxins out," Phillip told her. "And next time you come up here, make sure you wear gym shoes, something that will keep your feet safe."

"Next time," Kate repeated, a spark of hope leaping to life.

Kate had known that coming onto Phillip's "turf" was a risk. Every time they had met previously had been an accident, an accident that was easy enough to walk away from. Despite any hints and silent invitations, Kate had been unsure how Phillip would take her presence.

"Yeah," Phillip nodded, his hand running up and down Kate's smooth leg, "If you wanted to."

"Yeah," Kate repeated. The flush from earlier returning to her cheeks.

Rising to his feet, Phillip looked down at Kate as she leaned back on his bed, propped up on her elbows, the thin fabric of her flowing tank straining against her chest. Swallowing back the desire to lean down and take possession of her lips, Phillip forced himself to sit beside Kate.

"So, you're really okay, right," head cocked towards him and playing with her lower lip Kate watched the man.

Nodding, Phillip pulled up his white t-shirt and dropped it to the bed. Twisting, Phillip demonstrated the healing wound. No longer an angry red, it looked miles better. "I'm fine, Kate."

Shifting her weight onto one arm, Kate leaned towards Phillip, her now free hand moving to brush against the stitched flesh. After just the briefest touch Phillip caught her hand in his hand dragged it up his stomach and over his chest, clutching Kate's hand momentarily against his heart before pulling it up to his lips.

Phillip was flirting with a line that he knew shouldn't be crossed. Lips pressed softly against Kate's fingertips, her palm, and the pulse at her wrist.

"Kate," Phillip whispered, voice faltering with his buried need.

Their entwined hands were once more pressed against Phillip's chest, Kate's hand flush against his heart, every beat pressing against her like a tattoo.

"Phillip," was Kate's answer as she leaned a little closer, her cheek resting in the cradle of Phillip's neck and shoulder. She felt safe. She felt content leaning against him, his warmth bleeding into her without mercy.

"I need you, Kate." Lips pressed against Kate's hair, inhaling her sweet scent and letting it fill him, sustain him.

Kate didn't have the words to respond. Nothing that flashed through Kate's head seemed right. Instead, Kate settled for leaning a little closer and burying her face against Phillip's neck, relaxing entirely.

Phillip didn't need words, he didn't expect them. Kate gave him everything he ever needed without knowing it. She trusted him to care for her, to keep her safe, to comfort her. Kate's surrender to Phillip in that moment on his bed, in his house, on a warm Saturday afternoon meant more than words.

* * *

A/N: Wow! The outpouring of love for this story has me astounded. I knew when I started this that very few people might read it and even fewer might review, but you all have surprised me every time I post. I will keep going, and trust me this will be happy in the end. I may incorporate some elements of S2 later on, but this should be mostly fluffy and focused on Phillip and Kate. Hope this curbs your Phate craving. Lots of Love, Ta!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

Phillip would have been happy to just hold Kate for the rest of the day, he rarely felt as peaceful as he did in those long moments. Kate, too, had seemed content to just lie against him, breathing steadily. Their comfortable near-cuddling was interrupted by Kate's thigh muscle twitching violently, a reaction to her foot being stuck in a bucket of salt at a slightly less than relaxing position.

Pushing up from his reclined position, Phillip pulled Kate up with him. One arm curled around hip, Phillip settled his free hand against her thigh, gently stroking the soft skin of Kate's inner thigh as the muscle jumped against his palm. Smiling to himself, Phillip reached down and extracted Kate's foot from the bucket. Her toes wiggled, large crystals scattering back into the bucket with each flick of her tiny toes. Warm hand sliding down Kate's ankle and encompassing her slender foot, cupping the arch of her foot, Phillip meticulously helped slough off the salt.

"Better," Phillip asked as he propped Kate's leg up on his and began to run his hands up and down her calf, gently kneading the strained muscles.

Nodding against Phillip's broad shoulder, Kate pressed herself closer to the shirtless man, inhaling the uniquely manly scent that pervaded the house. "That feels good," she gasped as Phillip's fingers reached her thigh, his digits digging in gently. "Oh," Kate pressed herself against Phillip's back, lips half-open against shoulder.

His hands moved further up, thumbs making warm circles against the slowly relaxing muscle. Pausing, Phillip stared at Kate's creamy skin against his own tan flesh. In an odd moment of fascination, Phillip laced his fingers together beneath Kate's thigh and locked his thumbs together.

"You stopped," Kate breathed against his bare skin, a little whimper preceding the statement.

Phillip smirked, turning his head to look at the redhead who was practically wrapped around him. "Sorry," the hulking man chuckled, hands already back to work, dancing against her skin but carefully avoiding the neat edge of her shorts.

If Kate were any other girl, Phillip would have lifted her up and had her straddling him in a half-second flat. Kate atop him, hair falling around her bare shoulders, as Phillip held the curve of her hips. It was a scintillating image, which was why Phillip was focused on not crossing into a territory he wouldn't be able to turn back from.

After another few moments of massaging Kate's thigh, Phillip straightened and twisted, pulling Kate under his arm. Still in dangerous territory, Phillip quickly stood. That didn't particularly help because he towered over Kate, and she just tilted her head back and looked up at him with those soft eyes, lips in a half-smile.

"So," Kate hummed, "No work today?"

Arms lifting, Phillip ran his hands through his hair, not realizing what that did for Kate. "Tomorrow morning," he muttered, "I have Saturdays off."

"So you just hang around here all day," Kate asked, head cocked to the side as she watched Phillip's shirtless chest ripple and flex as he moved.

Dark eyes sparking with laughter Phillip reached out and pulled Kate up from the bed, causing her to stumble into his chest. "No, I don't just _hang_ around here all day," Phillip tipped Kate's chin up with his index finger. "I'm fixing this place up."

Kate frowned, there in the ceiling was, what she could only assume was a former hole. There were fresh boards overlaying old ones in the ceiling above Phillip's bed. Kate was actually a little surprised she hadn't noticed it before. "Is that safe," she asked.

Phillip chuckled and pulled Kate a little closer, once again flirting with that dangerous line. "Are you questioning my carpentry skills," Phillip growled playfully.

"No," Kate hedged, "I just don't think that the ceiling looks all that sturdy."

"Keep talking, Katie," Phillips smirked darkly, "do you want a shovel to help you dig?"

A blush reddened Kate's cheeks as she shifted uncomfortably against Phillip, her hands, braced against his chest, played across the firm skin and muscle.

"No," her breath fanned across his bare chest, "I just worry about you."

"You shouldn't," Phillip brushed the hair out of her eyes, the silky red curls sliding against his skin. "I'm a bad, bad man, Katie."

She shivered under his touch, the dark rumble of his voice making her squirm. "I don't think you're nearly as bad as you pretend to be," she murmured, leaning closer until she could wrap her arms around Phillip in a tight hug.

Fingers danced against her scalp, threading and tugging through Kate's hair. Phillip curled around her, pressing his nose to her hair. Kate was too sweet, she was too innocent. And, if Phillip hadn't known any better, he might have called her stupid, but Kate was anything but that.

"Come on," Phillip pulled back, "Time to prove you trust me, Kate."

The little smirk playing on his full mouth was devilish in nature. Phillip certainly knew how to intimidate.

"I do trust you," Kate said slowly, trying to figure out exactly where Phillip's brain was running off to.

"Good," Phillip grinned and in a flash Kate was once again in Phillip's hold.

"What," Kate yelped as she found herself flung over Phillip's shoulder, one of his large hands braced against her thigh.

Phillip ignored the yelping and the hands clutching at his bare back, tiny nails digging and scratching harmlessly as Kate scrabbled for purchase. "What are you doing," Kate panted, her cool hair swinging against Phillip's back.

Laughing, Phillip bounced a little, making Kate's body jump a little on his shoulder and silence her. "Making sure you trust me," he purred, his voice rumbling pleasantly against her.

Kate wasn't _too_ worried, at least she wasn't until Phillip stepped outside and Kate began to frantically try to figure out where Phillip was going. She knew she was safe with Phillip, but her rational brain wasn't in control. The rough wood decking turned to wood chips, and then Kat jerked as she realized that Phillip's center of gravity had shifted.

"Oh my god, what are you doing," Kate's voice was a little more sharp than usual, her breathing a little quicker. "Tell me you're not doing what I think you are."

"Relax, Kate," Phillip's thumb stroked along her inner thigh as he began to ascend the ladder braced against the house.

Following instructions, Kate took several slow breaths and curled her arms around Phillip, hands braced against his chest. "Okay, calm, I can do that, calm," she muttered against Phillip's back, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"You okay," Phillip asked gently as he climbed onto the roof, kneeling so he could set Kate down on the entirely safe roof.

"Fine," Kate nodded, even as she resisted Phillip's attempts to remove her from his person. "I'm good."

"Then you could open your eyes," Phillip coaxed, settling in behind her and holding her

in his arms.

"I'm good," Kate reaffirmed, curling further into Phillip's embrace.

"Open your eyes, Kate," Phillip breathed against her neck before he brushed his lips against her pulse, sorely tempted to kiss the tender flesh.

Kate shook her head, eyes still firmly shut.

"You'll be sorry if you don't," Phillip teased, "besides, we've been up here for a full minute and we haven't crashed back to earth."

"Yeah," Kate agreed, "but with my luck the world is just waiting for me to open my eyes so I can see my fall."

"Kate," he whispered in her ear, voice husky and warm, "I would never put you in harm's way, so trust me and open your eyes."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Hesitantly, Kate cracked her eyes open and inhaled sharply. It was beautiful, the mountain jutting upward in a series of sloping cliffs and valleys, frosted in a brilliant green. _Trees. _ Trees that had grown into the rocky face, thriving in the face of adversity. Kate had never seen them so clearly, so closely. The view was still obscured by the copse of trees growing around the house, but the view was still stunning. It was unpolluted.

Kate dropped her chin on Phillip's arms which rested on Kate's knees. She relaxed looking out at the perfect stillness of nature. Her fingers itched to grip a pencil, to sketch the details which she had never been able to imagine.

The arms around her tightened, fighting off the brief chill of the racing wind. Everything always seemed clearer, around Phillip. The truth of the world was easier to see sheltered in his arms, safe from harm.

* * *

Curled up under Phillip's arm, Kate sat quietly as Phillip navigated the roads in the dark. It was easy to be quiet with Phillip. There was no need to speak. There was no drive to possess. It was enough to just be together, warmth from the heaters and Phillip's body keeping the chill away.

Kate was a consummate rule follower, but Kate hadn't bothered to put her seatbelt on. She trusted Phillip to keep her safe, and he had returned that trust by buckling her in. Kate knew that Phillip would never voluntarily put her in harm's way, and he would do all he could to protect her from the world. With Kate, Phillip had found the one person who trusted him with everything, and he was determined, for once, to prove her right.

One shoe still tainted with blue paint, Phillip had refused to return it to Kate. She had fought him, complaining and pouting, but he had held strong. The shoe was now in pieces, and the other one lost somewhere in his house.

"I missed you," Phillip spoke quietly, his free hand twined with one of Kate's. The words were vague, too encompassing. The words were heavy, hinting at something deeper.

Fingers clutched at each other. Neither liked to think about why they couldn't see each other, the things that stood in their way, the people.

Instead of voicing the sentiments Kate wasn't sure how to, she just smiled up at Phillip and kissed his cheek, "Me too."

He smiled under her touch. It was enough.

* * *

When Phillip finally parked down the street from the Jensen house he was hesitant to let Kate go. He was determined that one day he would be allowed to walk Kate to the door, to kiss her, to hold her without fear of being caught or censured.

It was Kate that pulled away first, drawing back against his hold. It tore at Phillip that she could pull away. All he wanted to do was hold her, and he worried that maybe he was too clingy, smothering her.

He didn't want to drive her away, so Phillip let Kate pull away and he got her bike out of the bed of his truck. He hugged her briefly, ducking to kiss her cheek before he stepped away from the barefoot girl.

"I'll talk to you later, Katie," he flashed a small smile before jamming his hands into his pockets to keep them from reaching out for her.

Stepping after Phillip, Kate curled around him, pressing her cheek to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He didn't move t hold her. She stepped back, gravel and pebbles digging into the pads of her feet.

"Bye, Phillip," Kate put her hand up in a wave and started to walk away, one hand steering her bike alongside her.

* * *

When Kate stepped into the garage it was to her father working out. He settled the bar he was using onto the rest and sat up.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Harold smiled broadly at his Baby Girl, "how was your day?"

"It was good," Kate offered weakly as she steered her bike into its spot. "How was yours?"

"Quiet," Harold sat up and looked at Kate. He frowned when he saw her brushing off the bottoms of her feet, "Where are your shoes?"

"One of them broke, so I just tossed them both," Kate shrugged.

"Come here," he patted the bench, "you should have called, I would have come and gotten you."

Sitting, Kate let Harold pull her feet into his lap and inspect them for damage. Kate was fine. The worst of it was small dents and small red spots that would soon fade. Harold's fingers flicked off the remaining flecks of dirt and gravel, tracing the arch of Kate's foot.

It didn't feel the same as when Phillip had touched her. His touch was warm and gentle, and it made her heart race. She missed him. The realization hit Kate sharply. She had never depended on a man or missed a man other than her father.

Missing Phillip felt…she felt empty.

* * *

A/N: I know it has been a while, but I've finally finished this chapter! Suffice to say it has been a hectic few weeks, and a few more still to come. Between work, grad school, and terrible headaches I've been stressed and emotionally exhausted. Updates should come a little faster after next week. Thank you for all the support &amp; reviews!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

Kate leaned against one of the deputy's desks in the bullpen. She had gotten dragged along to drop off lunch for Harold. Harold was busy whispering and kissing Jean in a small alcove, leaving Kate to her own devices. Crossing her arms under her chest Kate sighed in annoyance, sitting in the middle of a half-busy police station wasn't exactly how Kate wanted to spend her Friday off. It wasn't often that she got a day off of school and volunteering, and didn't have a mountain of homework to finish. Kate supposed that was the perk of only have a few days left of school.

Three more days and Kate was free for the summer. Well, as free as she ever really was. She had plans. Plans that Kate hoped would take her fairly far from Walpole and her family, at least for a little while. And, of course, there was heavy craving to see Phillip.

Kate had been sustained by the occasional brief text message, both of them too absorbed with work of one nature or another to see each other. Kate frowned slightly, that was the downside to the whole affair. The rather illicit nature of their liaisons, relationship didn't seem to be the right word, didn't exactly lend itself to going out in public with each other or taking him home to meet the parents. Not that Kate wanted to do the latter. What mattered was that Kate couldn't just see him. She couldn't walk up to Phillip and drag him down into a kiss like she so desperately wanted to.

Phillip made things complicated and messy. Which wasn't all bad.

Shifting against the desk, Kate glanced behind her and towards where her parents were. In the process Kate caught the gaze of a _very _young deputy; he smiled at her, that awkward wavering smile that Kate had little choice but to return. Glancing away, Kate whet her lips, wiping away the remnants of a coconut gloss.

"Hey, you're Harold's daughter, right, Kate," a hesitant voice broke Kate's thoughts.

The _very_ young deputy had gotten up the nerve to walk over to Kate, he was hunched slightly. Kate assumed it was an unconscious attempt to make himself seem harmless.

"Yeah," Kate forced her polite smile onto her face, head dropping a little and a blush flooding her cheeks. She wasn't comfortable in this situation, she felt vulnerable. "I'm fine thank you," the young woman answered softly.

"Are you sure I can't get you a candy bar or something from the vending machine," the man-child asked. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Yeah," Kate nodded, "I know."

"What," a confused look passed over his face.

Unlocking her arms, Kate lifted a finger and tapped the nameplate on the desk she was leaning against, "You're the only new guy."

"Right," he chuckled, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

She smiled again, re-crossed her arms, and turned her head, gazing across the half-empty room. The front door swung open as Kate scanned the room, looking for any distraction that would get her away from the awkwardness of the deputy.

"Yeah, I'm for my check-in," a familiar low grumble of a voice caused Kate's head to snap back to the front desk.

Phillip stood, shoulders hunched slightly as he spoke, voice rumbling indistinctively as he leaned in to speak to the man on duty. Kate shifted her stance so she could see Phillip without turning her head, she silently pleaded for him to look up and catch her gaze.

"What," the redhead started as Sam settled a hand on her shoulder, "I'm fine, really."

"Coburn," the guy on desk duty called, "I've got a parole check for you."

Sam straightened and apologized for leaving Kate before he hustled over to the front desk and escorted Phillip back towards his desk. Kate bit down on her cheek to keep a placid expression on her face as Phillip moved closer. She was anxious, her heart beating viciously as Phillip moved closer and the possibility of her father walking back into the room became more probable.

It was immediately apparent to Kate the moment Phillip saw her. The tall man's steps faltered ever-so-slightly, his cheek twitched in a reflexive smile, and his eyes darkened mischievously as his face fell into a smirk.

"It'll just be a minute while I get your file," Sam offered as he pointed to a chair that Phillip could sit in.

Exhaling heavily, Phillip settled into the chair, slumping down slightly and clasping his hands across his flat stomach. "Hi, Kate," Phillip flashed her a grin.

His eyes traced the way her shorts fell high on her thighs and the way her halter-top didn't quite reach the top of her shorts, exposing her a good two inches of milky-soft skin. Skin that was barely brushed by dark, curly, red hair. Phillip wanted to reach out and twist it around his fingers, tug Kate closer. Close enough to pull her onto his lap and rest his hands on her bare waist, feel her soft hair sliding against their pressed skin.

"Phillip," his name was a breathy sigh, excitement bringing an entirely new flush to Kate's face.

"Imagine seeing you here," Phillip's tongue flicked across his lower lip, drawing Kate's attention to his mouth.

Mouth partially open Kate nodded, "Imagine that."

"Well," Phillip sniffed and pulled his right leg up and settled his ankle on his left knee, "They say I'm at a real risk for recidivism." Phillip slid his pant leg up and tapped the black plastic tracking device that Kate already knew about.

"You know, studies have shown that inmate participation in education, vocational and job training, prison work skills development, drug abuse, mental health and other treatment programs, all reduce recidivism, significantly," Kate quoted Bobby Scott fluently, a coy little smile on her lips. "But I would recommend social interaction with sponsor."

"Mm," Phillip grinned, "God you're hot when you flirt smart."

Kate attempted to stem the laughter that spilled from her lips, but she was less than successful. Head tilted down as she tried to school her expression, Kate's hair spilled over her shoulders and slid across her face. When Kate straightened, hair falling mostly back into place but clearly ruffled, it was to Phillip's proud smirk. It made Kate forget to breathe and she wanted to giggle like…Rachel.

"So," the dark haired man spoke slowly, "what are you doing after you blow this popsicle stand?"

Before Kate could respond, a sharp, "Hey," rang out as Harold stormed into the bullpen pointing vehemently. Kate jumped as Harold pulled her into him, placing himself between Kate and Phillip.

"Go to my office, Kate. Go," Harold barked and pushed Kate towards the far side of the building where his office was.

Hands on hips and mouth tight, Harold Jensen turned on the man he had formed a grudging partnership with. "What the hell did you say to my daughter?"

"Nothing, Man," Phillip sat up, setting both feet firmly on the ground.

"The hell it was nothing," Harold's hand scrabbled through his hair, "Kopus, what did you say to my daughter?"

Shaking his head in calculated distaste, Phillip smirked and leaned forward, "Nothing, I just said hello to Kate, I haven't seen her in _so _long."

Spinning on his heels, Harold jabbed a finger in Phillip's direction, "Coburn, watch him and don't let him do anything."

* * *

Stalking into his office, Harold closed the door and swept Kate up into a tight hug. His hands stroked her hair and he pressed kisses to the crown of her head, "Oh Katie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kate nodded against her father's chest.

Inhaling Kate's scent Harold closed his eyes, "What did he say to you, Katie?"

Pushing against her father's hold, Kate struggled to look into his eyes, "Nothing. It was nothing."

"_It_," Harold's voice hitched, "Kate, I need to know."

The derisive snort wasn't audible as Harold pulled her back into the hug. Of course Harold _had_ to know what had happened. "He said my name," was the meek answer, "that's it."

"Okay, okay," Harold repeated trying to sooth himself as he clutched Kate to him.

* * *

Phillip could only stare as the door to Harold's office closed and Kate was fully obscured from his view. He should have known better, he _did_ know better, but Kate had a way of making Phillip run a little stupid, even when he was trying to be smart.

When he had stopped by the station for his parole check-in, Phillip hadn't counted on seeing the one person he wanted to more than anything. Kate had appeared like a vision. She was leaning against a desk, hip cocked and arms crossed, watching him. It was all Phillip could do to stay calm. Being _near_ Kate was always an exercise in control, being near Kate in the vicinity of _Harold_ was a nearly impossible exercise in control.

_ So_, it was a given that Phillip would at the very least talk to Kate, and despite being caught by her father, Phillip wasn't feeling even a jot remorseful. Seeing Kate smile was worth the potential lambasting.

So Phillip answered the deputy's routine questions with one eye on the door that hid Kate from him, and when he was finished, Phillip grudgingly stood to leave. Disliking the idea of leaving Kate alone with Harold any more than she already was, Phillip walked slowly, hoping that the door would open.

"Phillip," he stopped in his path as a perky, surprised, voice belonging to Jean Jensen interrupted his concentration. "Hi," the redhead smiled tightly, "uh, how, how are you?"

Glancing around, Phillip returned the tight smile with one of his own. Their lasting meeting had been less than pleasant on more than one front. Jean was a mistake, a mistake Phillip refused to make again, refused to let into his life. She wasn't what he wanted anymore.

"Jean," he finally said, rocking back on his heels.

He didn't need to explain how he was, a scathing eye-roll and a more than expressive shrug was all Phillip needed to demonstrate the state of his life. He was in a police station, with a fucking tracking device on his ankle, and the woman who had run him out of town and spurned him was trying to make nice.

"I heard you were back in town," her voice was high and thin, "You look, you look good, Phillip."

"Yeah," Phillip jammed his hands in his pockets, "here I am."

Jean nodded, a pensive frown on her face, "You do look good, I'm glad."

Platitudes. Meaningless platitudes from a guilty woman. He nodded, "Yeah."

"You should," Jean shifted uncomfortably, her face drawn and tight, "you should come over for dinner tonight. It'll be nice to catch up." When Phillip didn't move or speak Jean continue, "You and, um, Junior, both of you should come over."

"Yeah," Phillip cleared his throat and turned his gaze towards the office again, "I don't think that's a very good idea. I doubt Harold would like it very much."

"No," Jean reached out to touch him, but she froze halfway through the motion and her arm dropped back to her side. "It'll be nice, I'm we'd be love to have you over. _Please_."

"Jean," was the long suffering reply.

This time Jean's hand made contact. Long, thin fingers settled on his forearm, drawing Phillip's attention down to her touch. He stiffened as her nails scraped along his skin, but he didn't speak.

"Sorry," the mother of two yanked back her hand. "Please, come to dinner, it'll be nice."

The problem Phillip faced was not as simply as Jean made it out to be, especially with her limited sense of the puzzle that was Phillip's entanglement with the family. On the one hand Harold hated him, and Phillip was almost certain that Harold might shoot him after today's incident. The other hand had Phillip's absolute need to see Kate and spend time with her.

In that moment Phillip's exercise in control stopped. His control shattered, and so he sighed and nodded tightly, "Alright, I'll tell the kid."

The tightness in Jean's face morphed into a smile. "Great, that's wonderful. Okay, I'll see you at six," her voice was bubbly, but still thin. Absently, Jean shook herself, "We'll see you at six," she corrected herself.

"Yeah," Phillip nodded and made his escape, sparing a brief glance back to towards where Kate was.

The pain of dinner with Jean and Harold Jensen would be worth it, because Phillip would be able to spend time with Kate right under their noses. Of course that would be a whole new test of Phillip's control. To be in the same room as Kate, to talk to her, to know she wanted him even a fraction of how much he wanted her, it would certainly be challenge.

* * *

A/N: Ah, summer! I finally have some free time, which I used to do a week and half's worth of laundry and write this piece. I've been trying to figure out some next steps for this story which has been difficult, but I hope you enjoy this installment, and look forward to the _dinner_. Thank you to all of the people who support me in this venture, and please let me know what you think, I love to hear how you think Kate &amp; Phillip are progressing. Night all!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

The phone conversation had been less a conversation and more a one-sided screaming fit. Jean had retreated to the master bedroom, slammed the door and then proceeded to lose all composure as she very forcefully informed her husband that she was going to get her way. Rachel and Kate sat together wide-eyed and trading glances as they listened to the familiar shrillness of their mother's voice. Neither of them could catch the particulars, but when Jean came storming out of the bedroom smile fixed in place, she was using her overly peppy voice.

"We're having dinner guests, so why don't you girls help me get the table ready and put out a few games," the breathless sigh had both girls frowning. "Junior's coming over, Rachel," Jean smiled bright before she ambled down the stairs humming to herself.

"Okay then," Rachel rolled her eyes, "somebody took her happy pills today."

"She's been like that all day," Kate shrugged, "it's her new normal."

"We could start a pep-squad with all her cheer," Rachel muttered.

"Or a Screamo band."

"So much teenage angst in an adult is not okay," the older girl groaned as she slumped after her mother. "I'll set the table if you get the bean-bag game out of the garage."

"Okay," Kate agreed easily.

Kate had already spent more time with her mother than she felt strictly necessary. While it hadn't been the absolute worst thing to go to the police station, it hadn't been a choice Kate had made for herself. Jean hadn't allowed Kate to refuse. It had been the last thing Kate had wanted. It stung to watch her parents play at being in love, it hurt that she barely existed to them in those moments. A small part of her enjoyed how riled her father got at finding Phillip near her. An even larger part had been utterly thrilled at how Phillip looked at her, how his dark eyes seemed to swallow her whole.

Shivering, Kate forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Thinking about Phillip would only serve to distract Kate to a point of uselessness. Meticulously, Kate cleaned and set up the game. There had been a time when Jean had been the queen of barbecues and dinner parties, time had allowed the alcohol to overcome what small façade Jean had, and that was the end. The games and chairs and hammock had been packed away and grown thick with dust and grime.

With the new façade came a new desire to be the social queen she had once been. Jean was in full party mode, just with less alcohol than usual. That wasn't to say there was _no_ alcohol. Jean had made sure to buy a case of beer at the grocery store, earning more than a few raised eyebrows. It wasn't exactly a secret that Jean was an alcoholic, even if she was "recovering" a bit.

Once Kate had set up the lawn chairs, the folding table, and the hammock, Kate settled onto the weight bench to relax and hide…and maybe think about Phillip…and his arms.

* * *

Growling at his reflection, Phillip scraped his fingers through his damp hair. It was too long, he grimaced at how it fell a little too far down his neck and curled out wildly. There was nothing to be done. Short of taking the scissors to the mess himself, Phillip couldn't do much but smooth down what he could and trim his beard. He was fussing like his mother. Well, he supposed, it was a comfort to know he inherited something from Marie.

It was stupid to be obsessing over his appearance, Phillip knew it. He had never been an overly vain man. He had never much cared for the opinion of others, but this was different. Phillip was unwaveringly determined to be charming and handsome. For Kate. So, he refused to look, as Mac had snorted, "a mountain man with a bear for a bride." It was more than a little unflattering, worse still his own mother had agreed.

Phillip could admit that prison had taken its toll on him. It always did. The thought of Kate had helped, the letters and scribbling had helped, but he hadn't had much else. Not hope, just desire. Need. Behind bars _normal_ fell away for Phillip. He hadn't bothered to cut his hair or shave very often. The untamed look had suited his needs. The beast that paced behind his eyes had only made the look more natural. Phillip was a man who terrified men.

There was no need to pretend that Phillip was anything more than what he appeared to be in prison. Phillip had buried any trace of his humanity and let the madman out. The heart that Phillip hid was saved only for the moments he was alone, the moments he wrote to Kate, when he could be soft. He tried to keep her from his thoughts when he played the beast. That part of Phillip needed her just as much, but to let her name her image drift through his head in those dark moments would taint her memory. He couldn't let himself be the animal with Kate, she didn't deserve that.

It was different on the outside. The desperate need for Kate was no longer a secret he struggled to keep from himself. He forced the animal down. Unburying his heart and soul, because that was what _she_ deserved. Kate deserved the man. Not just a man, but the man who would protect her both physically and emotionally. Kate deserved someone who would take her out and dance with her, and set her free.

It wasn't easy. Phillip's instincts screamed around Kate. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hide her away from the world, so she would be his alone. Wrestling down his instincts was a feat that Phillip knew he had to succeed in. The conversation that had sustained him and won his heart had told Phillip as much. Kate didn't deserve to be rescued from one prison only to find herself in another.

So for Kate, Phillip pushed the animal down and forced the man out from the forest. He would be charming and handsome, or as charming and handsome as he could be with hair that was too long and the wild look in his eyes. It didn't matter that consciously he knew Kate didn't have a problem with how he looked, and the rest didn't really matter. Phillip was nervous. Not a feeling he was overly used to, but growing more familiar with each day.

Running his hands through his hair once more, a small amount of gel coating the most aggressive curls, Phillip forced them into a slightly tamer look. Phillip smiled into the mirror, trying to make it look natural and not like he was about to eat someone. It was easy with Kate. She made him smile like it was breathing, but it was everyone else.

It was worth it, he told himself. Today he would get to spend hours with Kate right under everyone's noses, and unless Harold wanted to spill the trio's little secret, he couldn't do anything. Tugging a long sleeved Henley over his head Phillip unbuttoned it completely and rolled up the sleeves.

Charming. That was the key, Phillip reminded himself. Charming and irresistible. For Kate.

* * *

When Kate finally tripped down the stairs after getting ready, Rachel had already scurried down to answer the door for Junior. Knowing that her older sister would more than enjoy a little time alone with her boyfriend, Kate rinsed the dirt and sweat of the day off and got ready for dinner. Putting on a pair of dark denim shorts and a grey, ribbon-rimmed, tank that draped gently across Kate's curves, she swiped on a little eyeliner and mascara.

It wasn't often that Kate wore makeup, but flirting with Phillip, and thinking about it had her feeling kind of girly, or at least more than usual. If dinner finished early enough, Kate was going to try to slip away and see Phillip. She wanted to kiss him properly. No more teasing, she wanted to feel his arms around her and his lips on hers.

"Kate," Jean smiled as she entered the kitchen, "why don't you go out and play with Junior and Rachel."

"Yeah, sure," Kate smiled tightly, "um, I might go hang out with Sam later, if that's cool."

A knife clattered into the sink as Jean spun around, "We're having dinner guests, Kate."

"I know," the teen nodded, fingers curling into fists, "I meant after, it's Friday, I know Sam wanted to go to the movies."

Jean's frown curled upward into a smile, "Like a date?"

"No," the word was sputtered in shocked horror, "god, no!"

"Sure," Jean laughed, "I've seen how he looks at you, Kate."

"Yeah, well, no," Kate grimaced, and shook her head. "I'll be outside."

Kate made her escape quickly, not willing to continue the conversation of who Kate was or wasn't dating or potentially seeing. There was no way in hell that would go over well.

"That's a look," Rachel snorted as Kate strode out into the backyard and slumped into the hammock. "Mom get to you?"

"Ugh, yes," Kate groaned.

"Hi, Kate," Junior raised a hand.

"Hey, Junior," Kate returned the greeting and rolled further into the hammock, "How are you?"

"I'm better than you, apparently," Junior chuckled.

Rachel shoved Junior, "What did she do?"

"Ugh," Kate groaned again. "Can we just agree that Mom has a weird fascination with our love lives. Or lack thereof."

"Sam," Rachel cooed, "the guy who has had eyes for you since day one of classes this year, and you've pretty much ignored him?"

"Shut up," Kate curled into a ball, hair obscuring her vision as she bounced in the hammock.

"Oh come on," Rachel tossed a beanbag at Kate, causing the younger girl to flinch. "He is kinda cute. I mean if you like the popular, dimpled, athlete look."

"Just no," Kate lobbed the beanbag out of the hammock.

"Okay, as much as I love girl-talk," Junior spoke slowly, sounding thoroughly uncomfortable, "but how about we play a game."

"Sure," Kate agreed, "but we'll have to play two on one."

"Dibs on Junior," Rachel cheered, "we're going to kick your butt!"

"Well if you need a partner, I'm happy to play," a warm, very familiar voice had Kate jerking upright to find Phillip smiling at her.

He stood there in a very tight shirt, hair slicked back neatly, and dark eyes sparkling mischievously. Kate's mouth was dry. Phillip was absolutely the last person she expected to be there. Although, Phillip's presence might explain Jean and Harold's phone fight, Harold certainly would not be happy about this scenario. God, he looked good, hands tucked in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, muscles pressing largely against fabric. Kate hated the shirt he was wearing. Inhaling roughly, Kate bit the inside of her cheek. Yeah, she really hated that _very_ tight shirt, which was really just constricting things that needed to breathe…mostly Phillip's shoulders, and arms, and his chest, and his abs.

"Uh," Kate stared, mentally shaking herself, her mouth parted in awe. Phillip was in her backyard and no one was freaking out, except her. Rachel looked a little uncomfortable, stepping closer to Junior, whose jaw tightened just a tick.

"I'm Phillip, Kopus," he stepped forward, hand extended to both shake Kate's. "I'm Junior's brother."

"Hi, Kate," the redhead slipped her hand into Phillip's, fighting the broad smile that his touch always drew from her. "Junior, Rachel."

"Phillip," Junior returned the greeting coolly. "I didn't think you'd show up."

"I was invited, didn't want to be rude," Phillip tried for pleasant.

Rachel wrapped her arm around Junior's as she forced a smile, "Well, we're happy to have you. And you got to meet Kate!"

"So, want to be my partner," Phillip asked.

"Yeah," Kate agreed, "let's beat those two."

"Okay," Rachel's voice was still a little tight, "um, first team to twenty points?"

Kate nodded and retreated to the far board, Phillip in step at her side.

"Surprised," Phillip asked her softly.

Kate nodded, shifting her path just slightly so she would be pressed against Phillip's side. "That's one way to put it," looking up at him, Kate bit her lip, "I was actually thinking about coming to see you."

"Oh," Phillip grinned, as they began to pick up the beanbags, "did you miss me today?"

Kate turned her back to Rachel and Junior, smiling up at Phillip, "You know I did, and I couldn't stop thinking about you, sitting there in that chair…"

A flush rose on Kate's chest and cheeks, her eyes hazy, Phillip's body tensed, "Kate."

She was killing him. Phillip hadn't expected Kate to be so…honest, so flirtatious, and so hot. If they were alone he would have her flat on her back in the grass, pressing kisses to every inch of her skin, hands running up underneath that little shirt that kept shifting against her hip.

"Oh, Kate," Phillip groaned, stepping beside her, "You're playing with fire."

Kate opened her mouth to respond but was stopped by her sister calling across the yard, "Stop plotting! It's time to play!"

"Game on," Phillip spoke darkly, power and heat rumbling through his voice.

The game was a blur of laughter, smirks, jeering, and a good deal of teasing. Rachel and Junior were really having fun playing with each other, high fiving and hugging when they got points, not really noticing the comfort level of their competitors.

Kate cheered loudly for Phillip, whistling and clapping happily, and Phillip in turn gruffly rooted for her, calling her "Katie" fondly. When they got points they would high five, or Phillip would rub her shoulder, Kate reflexively squeezed his forearm, leaning into him in a half hug.

It wasn't until they were tied at 19, Kate swinging her arm and preparing to throw that Junior and Rachel seemed to recognize the odd nature of the partnership.

"You got this, Katie," Phillip called. "Come on!"

That was passable, it was the moment when the bag dropped into the hole and Kate screamed in joy that Rachel and Junior saw the unexpected. Phillip surged to his feet with a roar as Kate made the point. In one step he had stepped up behind Kate and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet and spun her around. Kate was laughing and squealing happily as she bent her knees and pulled her body tighter into a ball, clutching at Phillip's arm as they spun.

At last when Phillip set Kate down she stumbled into him, fingers clutching at his chest as she tried to catch her breath. "We won," she smiled up at him, green eyes sparkling as Phillip helped her keep her balance.

"Okay," Rachel tossed a beanbag at them, "Rematch. Losers have to sing "I'm a Little Teapot" with the dance."

Junior blanched, but Phillip could only smirk, "It's on, right Kate?"

Phillip wrapped his arm around Kate's shoulder. She smirked and curled her arm around his waist, "Right, Phillip."

Moving back into position, Phillip slid his hand from her shoulder to her hip, squeezing. Phillip wasn't a teenager anymore, he wasn't exactly the sort of guy who sat around and played games and laughed. It felt right though, laughing and playing with Kate. It felt normal and right. Phillip didn't have to pretend to enjoy himself, he didn't have to be the animal, he could just be Phillip.

Kate made everything easier.

* * *

A/N: Chapter 10! I have been working on this for weeks, but my headache cycle has been kicking my butt in ways I never knew possible. Tonight was the first day in a long while where I could actually look at my computer screen and not be in terrible pain. All of your reviews have been wonderful, and this story is really for you guys.

I am thinking about writing a few one-shots for this pairing (not in the _Every Day_ universe), and potentially another chapter story. I almost cried when I heard the show was cancelled, so now I _have_ to keep writing for Kate &amp; Phillip.

Sorry for the long wait, but hopefully I'll have the next chapter out sooner, it will continue the dinner. Lots of love!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Red Road_.

A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

Harold stormed into the house, slamming the garage door as he went. Jean's phone call had put him on edge. He was furious. Jean had invited the one man he hated to their house, where their daughter was. Harold would sooner murder Phillip than let him eat next to his Kate. Hell, murder was looking like a good plan. Jean had ignored his protests, his yelling, and his numerous texts and phone calls, informing him only that he was expected for dinner.

He had gotten tied up at the station, which meant that Harold was later than he would have liked. Phillip's truck was the first sign that Harold was too late. It was parked on the street, a clear sign. Harold couldn't restrain the anger that surged through his blood, suffusing his face with red.

"Jean," he barked, hand curling painfully around his keys. "Jean!"

"I'm in the kitchen, Harold," Jean called, voice loud but even.

That only fueled Harold's anger. The fact that after everything they had been through, everything Harold had said Jean had gone ahead and done what she wanted, like everything was fine. Harold stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, glaring at his wife. She was standing at the counter in a dress that was a little too fancy for dinner at home, her focus was on a recipe book as she muttered to herself.

"I don't want him in my house, Jean," Harold growled lowly.

"Well then it's a good thing he's outside playing with the girls and Junior," Jean told him dismissively. "Besides, he's a friend."

Jaw tensing, Harold moved to the window, looking out into the backyard where, to Harold's distress, Phillip was talking to Kate as they played bags. One hand slid up into his hair, clutching his head in frustration.

"Dammit, Jean," Harold gritted out. "I don't want that bastard near Kate! And he's not a friend! He's a felon."

"A felon who saved _your_ life," Jean huffed. "A felon who wouldn't be a felon if it weren't for you and me!"

"He made his own choices, Jean."

Jean took a deep breath, her body vibrating, "I am not having this conversation, Harold. You are going to be nice to Phillip, we are going to have a lovely dinner, and then we will all sit around and talk. Do you understand me?"

He understood, but he certainly didn't like it. What he really wanted to do was go outside and beat Phillip into the dirt before pulling Kate into his arms, away from _him_. Jean was blind to the truth; she didn't realize how dangerous Phillip was. She had always been blind around Phillip.

"Don't you dare ruin this for me, Harold," Jean threatened when he didn't respond. "Don't you dare!"

Jean's face spoke of the madness that drove her to drink, the anger and determination to make everything perfect. Harold didn't have a choice but to back down. He would do as Jean wanted, but he wasn't about to let Phillip waltz through his house or look at his daughter.

Sensing Harold's acquiescence, Jean smiled shortly, "Go shower and change."

Harold retreated up the stairs, his footsteps sure and quick. Jean turned back to the book, skimmed a little further and then glanced up and out at the backyard. Rachel was smiling and laughing, hanging off of junior happily. Smiling, Jean shifted her gaze across the yard to where Phillip stood. He was smiling and laughing as he looked down at Kate, it was a vast difference from the moments following his arrival.

_ Jean swung open the front door, broad smile in place. "Hi, Phillip," her voice was a sigh, "you look very handsome. Please, come in."_

_ Phillip nodded shortly, "Thanks." _

_ "So," the redhead stepped back a little as she shut the door, "Junior and the girls are out back, Harold should be on his way home, so it is just us." Phillip shifted and crossed his arms across his chest as Jean took a step forward, arms outstretched. Jean's smile faltered as she turned, and began to chatter again only slightly unnerved. "You look good, so, how have you been?"_

_ "Fine," was his clipped answer. _

_ "Good," Jean led him to the kitchen, "Can I get you a beer or something?"_

_ Standing at the threshold of the room Phillip scowled, "I'm gonna check on Junior."_

The conversation had been stilted and awkward. That wasn't exactly how Jean had wanted their second meeting to go. They had been close before, it had been warm and fun. Jean wanted that back. He hated her, Jean fretted, but she would fix it. The awkwardness was just part of the process. Soon it would be just the way it was. Instead of frowning he would smile, he would wrap her up in a hug, and it would be like it was in high school. Before it all went wrong.

Phillip used to smile and laugh with _her_ like that. With a shaky breath Jean forced herself to refocus on her task. She was going to have the perfect dinner and everything would get better. Everything.

* * *

After a second win, Phillip and Kate smothered their laughter through a rather badly sung and choreographed rendition of "I'm a Little Teapot." It was well worth it in their opinion, Junior was certainly an interesting shade of red, and Rachel was attached to Junior, lips against his neck.

"Not bad, huh, Katie," Phillip curled his arm around her waist, pulling her to him and slipping his thumb under her tank to stroke the tender skin of her abdomen.

"Nope," Kate inhaled deeply, shuddering as she was overwhelmed with the warmth of Phillip's scent. "We make a pretty good team."

"We make a _great _team," the tall man corrected. "We should do this again, sometime, if you wanted to?"

"You mean beat my sister and your brother at bags," Kate teased, biting her lip.

Taking a step so he was in front of her, arm sliding to the small of her back, Phillip shook his head as he looked down at her. "No, I meant go out and play a game together, like mini golf or bowling. A date."

A hand dropped against his stomach, small fingers tapping against the firm flesh, "A date?"

The pressure of Kate's hand against him had Phillip's eyes darkening, "You're playing with fire, little girl."

Mischief curled in Kate's eyes, and as she leaned forward, fully intending to demonstrate just how _playful_ she could be, Rachel's voice cut her off.

"Okay," Rachel called laughing, "this isn't fair, you two are way too good at this. Let's play football, girls versus boys."

"No," Junior took the objection right out of Kate's mouth. "That's a terrible idea. Why don't we just throw the ball around?"

"That way Junior here won't hurt himself," Phillip smirked.

"Shut up," Rachel grumbled even as she picked up the football and threw it over to Junior.

The jibes were passed just as quickly as the ball, ending up more often than not in laughter. At some point Jean settled into a chair, watching them closely, and Harold soon followed, scowl transforming his whole countenance. The tension in his shoulders was a clear effort at restraint. The way he clutched at the back of Jean's chair was a substitute for marching across the lawn and tackling Phillip to the ground and beating him badly.

Harold's only consolation was that Phillip seemed to be keeping his distance from Kate. Something that Harold was going to ensure for the rest of the evening. If he had to allow Phillip into his home, Harold was going to guard his daughter from the monster.

So focused on his task was Harold, that he didn't notice when Jean returned to the house until she called them all in.

"Junior and Rachel on one side and Kate and Phillip on the other," Jean directed with a hand as she set a pitcher of iced tea on the already food-laden table.

"Katie, why don't you sit in my spot," Harold put his arm around his youngest daughter's shoulders and pulled her in to kiss her temple.

"No," Jean said quickly, "Kate is sitting next to Phillip."

As their battle of wills continued, Phillip pulled out the chair opposite Junior for Kate and pushed it in politely before taking the seat beside hers. Rachel tossed Kate a look that clearly displayed both her embarrassment and annoyance at their parents' argument.

"Look," Rachel cleared her throat, "we're all really hungry, so let's have dinner."

"Yes, Harold," Jean nodded and moved to sit in her spot beside Phillip, much to his dismay, "let's have dinner."

Harold didn't argue as he sat down across from Jean, one arm reaching so he could squeeze Kate's hand in silent comfort. Dinner was a mostly tense affair in which Jean chattered, Rachel and Junior answered question after question and Phillip grunted and avoided saying anything. Charming had mostly gone out the window the minute Jean had attempted to go down memory lane.

"So, how is the paving company," Harold finally broke his silence.

"Good," Phillip answered easily. "Paycheck's not bad."

"Not what you're used to, I'm sure," Harold offered slyly.

Phillip shrugged as he set down his fork and his right hand dropped to his side, "It's not so bad. I'm coming up on a promotion soon."

"That's wonderful," Jean chimed, "isn't that Harold."

"Yeah, great," Harold forced out.

"It's almost summertime," Jean continued, "thinking about doing anything?"

Phillip shrugged again, glancing at Kate out of the corner of his eye as he dropped his hand onto Kate's chair underneath the tablecloth, fingertips gently pressed against her bare thigh. She shifted a little at the sudden contact, fingers tightening on her silverware.

"I kind of like it here in Walpole, I missed it," Phillip smiled as he looked just past Kate to Harold, eyes lingering on the young redhead just long enough to get his point across. He knew better, he shouldn't be baiting Harold, not when wanted to honestly pursue Kate. Pissing her father off, who had a gun, probably wasn't Phillip's smartest idea ever. But, as Phillip was constantly reminded, Kate made him stupid in a special kind of way.

"Enough about me," Phillip chuckled lowly, shifting his hand to slid across the top of Kate's thigh, fingers dipping between the soft flesh of her thighs and stroking the hidden skin. "Your father told me you draw, Kate. I'd love to see your work after dinner, I don't know much about art, but I'd be happy to learn from someone so talented."

Phillip couldn't quite tell if the blush that raced up Kate's body was due to the compliment or his fingers playing a serenade higher and higher on her skin.

"Su-sure," Kate smiled weakly at him, her eyes bright with pleasure, "I'd be happy to show you."

"I look forward to it," Phillip practically purred. "Dinner is great, by the way."

The half-smirk, half-smile that settled on Phillip's face was playing well. Maybe _charming_ wasn't quite out of his grasp. He was doing okay. Jean was putty in his hands, Phillip couldn't exactly lunge across the table and strangle him like he looked like he wanted to, and Junior was scowling less and less, though that might have to be attributed to his little girlfriend.

* * *

Once the table was cleared, and Phillip, Junior, Kate, Rachel, and Harold had been shooed into the backyard to set up a bonfire. The three men took over the building and setting of the bonfire, leaving the two sisters to sit back and laugh at the clumsy and competitive nature of the trio.

"Phillip seems to like you," Rachel nudged her sister as they sat together in the hammock.

"He's just being nice," Kate offered.

"Katie, I've met the man," Rachel hugged her little sister, "he doesn't really _do_ nice. In fact, he's been kinda adorable with you, but you always bring out the best in people."

Kate was stiff as Rachel spoke, not quite sure how to take the words. "I don't know, maybe you just met him at a bad time."

"Junior agrees with me, well, about him being really sweet and nice with you. He and Phillip aren't on great terms right now, but seeing him with you, I think is helping," Rachel tried to explain. "He isn't hard on the eyes either," the girl trailed off before they both burst out laughing.

"You're ridiculous," Kate giggled, but couldn't deny that Phillip was more than a little handsome.

"Are you going to bail and go hang out with Sam," Rachel asked as the fire caught and the men walked over to them.

"You're going over to Sam's," Harold asked, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Kate shrugged as Rachel rolled off the hammock and latched onto Junior, dragging him away to a chair and settling on his lap. "I might," Kate got to her feet, "I don't know yet."

"Well if you want to go, you should," Harold hugged his daughter, lacing his fingers in her hair.

Kate didn't need to be facing Phillip to feel the heat of his gaze on her back or his presence, "I'm going to go grab my sketchbook and maybe I'll text him, kay?" Kate slipped away from the duo, just a little hesitant to leave her father and her maybe-boyfriend alone together.

When Kate returned it was to her parents and Junior and Rachel both curled up in chairs and Phillip sitting in the hammock. With long strides Kate crossed the distance to Phillip, standing at his feet she handed him the book. Phillip took it with a hard look at her, eyes narrowed in the slowly darkening night. Dropping the book to his lap, Phillip wrapped his hand around Kate's wrist and tugged her down beside him. Kate slid against him, his weight and gravity landing her wedged against his side, his arm around her shoulders, her legs half atop his.

"Who's Sam," he growled lowly.

Kate's back arched, eyes locked on her parents' still forms not too far away, as Phillip's hand slid from her arm to her bare belly, "No one, my lab partner."

"Seems like someone to me," his fingers shifted firmly across her taut skin, hidden beneath her shirt, as he dipped each of his large fingers in her belly button and grazed the top of her shorts.

With every centimeter of skin Phillip touched, Kate's breathing became more erratic. "No," she shuddered as the warmth of his hand pressed affectionately against her cooler skin. "He's just my lab partner."

"So you don't want to go see him," Phillip asked.

"No," Kate quickly shook her head and shifted as she heard her father's voice.

"Katie, come on and sit by the fire," Harold called back.

Kate shook her head despite the fact that the sun had finally set and her father couldn't actually see her shaking her head, "I'm just finishing showing Phillip my pictures." The sketchbook lay abandoned on Phillip's lap, forgotten in the haze of his touch.

"Pity," Phillip hummed, tilting his head so he could place a kiss on Kate's forehead, her nose, her cheek. His mouth hovered over hers, their breath mingling even as Kate's trembled with each brush of Phillip's hands and fingers. "I would have liked to see you later, Kate."

She swallowed as his the deepness of his voice had her shivering and melting in his arms. She licked her lower lip, watching him. His dark eyes flashed as he pulled her closer, "I need you Katie."

In a flash, Phillip had his other hand curled in her hair, and his lips were ghosting across hers. Kate's lips were more than soft, they were slightly damp and warm and pliant. It was the barest of kisses, if it could even be considered that. It was over sooner than Phillip wanted, but his control was slipping. He exhaled heavily, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before he pulled back and pulled Kate to rest on his shoulder. Even with just the smallest of contact he could taste her on his lips.

Grinning to himself, Phillip decided that maybe he _could _do charming, and if the moan Kate had released as he pulled away from her lips had been any indication, he could do irresistible_ too_.

* * *

A/N: Well…this may have gotten away from me just a little bit. Someone asked for a kiss, a sneaky kiss, and I thought I would indulge you just a little. I'm working up to them being more public, Harold is really not going to enjoy that, but Jean is inadvertently keeping him too busy to notice her daughter is stealing her ex/current-crush (man is that woman weird). Thank you for all the support, and keep it coming!


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